


To the Sun, Moon, and Stars Above

by ThatRandomFan



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: F/M, I guess you could say that this work features some bonus parts that can't be seen in dreamwidth, I have no idea how this happened but I feel proud of it, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, can you believe I managed to finish a multi-chapter fic? yeah me too, if it isn't obvious already- it's an AU, it went from a classic fairytale rendition to a whole new thing, theater kid marik au, when it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRandomFan/pseuds/ThatRandomFan
Summary: If one were to go back in time to ask Malik Ishtar if he’ll ever consider Bakura a friend, let alone become his best friend, the answer would have been a resounding no. And yet here they are, considering each other as their partner-in-crime while working side-by-side for their guild’s 10th anniversary. Life was going great for him until the world turned topsy-turvy with Bakura’s recent revelation.“I’m getting married!”





	1. Bakura's Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While many thought of the two as some sort of actors portraying a love story, Anzu couldn’t help but feel as if she was witnessing the opening of a tragic play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to everyone who helped me work on this! Here's to my awesome beta [Lilyliegh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh) who taught me the essence of tenses. I really appreciate it- thank you! I would also like to thank Admin T for the wonderful banner and theazureavenger for the amazing artwork that can both be seen [here](http://ygobigbang.dreamwidth.org/9474.html). And lastly, [DistractedDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractedDream/pseuds/DistractedDream) for that really great playlist- I love it! You all made my first big bang really special, thank you so much!

_“She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful; and while her sisters would be delighted with the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she cared for nothing but her pretty red flowers, like the sun, excepting a beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck.”_

_-_ Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid

…

If one were to go back in time to ask Malik Ishtar if he would ever consider Bakura a friend, let alone his best friend, the answer would have been a resounding **no.**

Who would want to be that boy’s friend really? He was an asshole of massive proportions with a mouth that rivaled that of a sailor. Bakura had made quite a reputation for himself; he was known all over Domino as a downright rotten apple: failing grades, endless records of truancy, reports of theft, and _so_ much more. It was really surprising how he and Malik became the closest of friends. Practically polar opposites by appearance alone—Malik’s tanned skin and blond hair against Bakura’s bleached skin and ashen hair— the two were also different in such a way that Malik was practically the poster child of society’s ideal child: highest marks in class, overflowing talents, polite demeanor—everything a parent could have ever asked for. Truly, the only thing the two shared with one another at that time was their mutual indifference for everyone around them and, apparently, each other.

Thankfully, all of those habits changed due to a certain white-haired adviser. If Pegasus had not forced the two to join his then-upstarting theater guild, none of this would have been possible and the world would forever bemoan the loss of two of its greatest theater actors.

‘ _Come to think of it, he is running late to his own meeting._ ’

Ever since the day it was established, members of I2 had agreed to meet every Sunday morning unless otherwise stated by their “magnanimous” president or because it was a holiday. And would you look at that, it was the first Sunday after their last performance, a rendition of the classic _Genie of the Lamp_. It was one of Malik’s many favorite stories.

Malik frowned and jumped down the crate he was perched on. Glancing around the room, he spotted a certain blue-eyed brunette flailing her hands away while speaking with someone on her phone. He made his way to her to ask just what was keeping Pegasus and sighed in relief when he saw her slumping her shoulders. Not that Malik minded waiting for her to finish the conversation; it was just that Malik hated standing around near people without doing something. Call him an attention-whore but Malik Ishtar simply _could not_ stand by waiting for someone to turn their attention to him when he was clearly in need of it.

 “Hey Anzu, any news?” Malik said casually with his left hand resting on his hip.

“Oh, hi Malik,” Anzu replied while pocketing her phone. “Did you see that?” she asked, covering her face in shame when he nodded. “That was so embarrassing… Anyways, Pegasus said that he’ll be running late.” Seeing Malik raise an eyebrow, she immediately raised her hands in mock-defense before continuing. “Don’t look at me. I have no idea what’s going on either. Maybe it’s related to the next show?”

“I won’t be surprised if it is. It _is_ pretty important.” Malik grinned along with Anzu.

After all, every member of the guild knew just how important the upcoming show would be. Not only would it be their last show of the season, it would also mark the guild’s 10th anniversary. To think that the guild first started as a punishment program for a couple of delinquents back in highschool. Even Malik couldn’t believe it sometimes. Granted his joining of the guild had been an accident, Malik can’t help but be thankful for it. If it weren’t for the guild, he wouldn’t have found his passion in life, he wouldn’t have been able to fix his bond with his family, and he wouldn’t be able to befriend Bakura.

Come to think of it, where was he? He should have been here ages ago. If there was one thing Bakura’s reputation got wrong, it was that he was always late. Between the two of them, it was usually Malik that ran late during their meetings while Bakura quietly scolded him with his eyes from afar. Malik voiced his concerns to Anzu and received a confirmation that she hadn’t seen him either.

“Sorry I can’t help more, Mal,” she said with a placating tone.

“Don’t sweat it, you already got your hands full with Pegasus anyway; I’ll just stay in a corner and sulk until he gets here.”

Fortunately, before Malik could fret anymore, the theater’s mahogany doors opened with a resounding click from its golden knobs. All actions halted within the room and all heads turned to welcome the newcomers. There standing in all his glory was their beloved adviser and founder, Maximillion Pegasus, once again wearing his favorite burgundy suit. With the grace of a man swimming in his own pile of money, Pegasus strutted inside followed quietly by a pale ghost.

Hair as white as snow and skin as pale as a man’s bones, his trademark black leather trench coat was practically the living embodiment of death itself. If that was not enough, his brown eyes were dark enough to appear red from a distance. Sometimes the thought of Bakura low-key cosplaying 24/7 crossed Malik’s mind, but it was always ignored. After all those years of being together, Malik had enough evidence to disprove anyone who claimed that Bakura’s features were fake.

Regardless, everyone settled into their respective seats for the meeting: new recruits in the front, seniors at the back. Except for Malik. Malik was special.

From the day the guild was just being formed, Malik remained seated on the stage itself, just a few meters away from the podium. This seat was special because it was while sitting in this exact same spot back in highschool that Malik decided to join the theater. Many argued that if Malik was allowed to sit anywhere he liked, then they should be allowed to too. Unfortunately for them, Pegasus was a very organized man. Thus, all their complaints were met with a vehement no. And besides, Pegasus had grown rather fond of Malik. Very few things made the boy happy at that time, who was he to take that privilege from him? Before long, all arguments were forgotten and everyone learned not to question Malik’s special seat.

Noticing Bakura was still following Pegasus onto the podium, Malik raised an eyebrow and whistled to get his attention. He then nodded to the space beside him with a grin. For a while, Bakura did nothing but glance at Pegasus and Malik. Then with a resigned sigh, Bakura headed towards the spot Malik allotted for him.

“What was that about?” Malik whispered the moment Bakura was comfortable in his seat.

“You’ll see,” he simply replied with a secretive smirk, earning him a raised eyebrow courtesy of Malik. A moment of tensed silence passed between the two before Malik decided to just let it go and focus more on what Pegasus was saying.

“It better be good, or I’ll punch you.”

Bakura, the guild’s resident asshole, just snickered. Why was he friends with this guy again?

“Good morning, everyone~!” Pegasus greeted with a smile for all of them. Once the murmur of greetings being said back died down, he continued on with his remarks. “Once again, I would like to thank you all for a job well done during our last show. You’ve all made me so proud.” A round of applause followed his statement before he nodded and continued on. “As you all know, this season’s end is fast approaching. And as was tradition, we need to make our last show amazing. But this show should also be more extraordinary than usual because of it is also this guild’s—”

“ ** _10 th anniversary celebration!_**” the entire room hollered and cheered, effectively cutting off the poor man.

“Yes, yes, quite. Now, if you’ll all settle down and let me finish,” he said sternly but the pleased smile on his face was enough to let the rowdy guild know that they were not in trouble. “We will be accepting suggestions for the new play later but for now—” Pegasus’ smile seemed to falter a little before he continued sullenly “—someone will be sharing a short message with us.” He then moved away from the podium.

Bakura stood up and walked towards it. This new discovery was enough to cause hushed conversations to occur within the room; Bakura wasn’t exactly into socializing, every member knew that. Other than Malik, and the occasional conversations with Anzu and Pegasus, Bakura usually avoided talking to people unless necessary. The only time people could actually talk to him properly was when they were practicing, and even then it was usually to criticize them or to be crude towards them. The members were all used to this and wouldn’t trade these interactions for anything else; Malik said that that was just how Bakura showed he cared for people, and if that was really how it was then they were happy to be part of the select few the Ice Prince cared for. However, be that as it may, the curiosity sparked by Bakura’s sudden appearance on the podium was something that couldn’t be ignored.

“Hello everyone. For those who don’t know me, I’m Bakura,” he said, arms crossed and an air of apathy around him that enticed the crowd to listen. “As some of you may know, I’ve been in this guild ever since it was formed. It’s been fun working with all of you, but I believe it is time for me to go.”

A couple of shocked gasps followed the bomb Bakura just dropped. Not from Malik, of course. Malik was Bakura’s best friend, his wing man, his partner in crime—he already knew about this way before Bakura even told Pegasus. Bakura personally asked him to keep it a secret in order for the guild to remain ignorant about it until the time was right. Obviously, Malik readily agreed. Bakura would always be a troublemaker at heart so this wasn’t surprising. And besides, the chaos that resulted from Bakura’s confession was amazing, even Malik had to admit that. And so with a grin, Malik remained quiet from his seat and continued to patiently wait for Bakura’s big surprise. He honestly had no idea what it is, but he’d trust Bakura’s word for it to be amazing.

“Oh come off it, we all know it was going to happen sooner or later,” Bakura remarked with a scoff before proceeding with a smirk on his handsome face—a smirk that promised nothing but chaos in its wake but it’s okay. Everything would be all right, Bakura said so.

“We all have a life outside of the guild, which leads me to this point...”

Bakura paused to look around at everyone’s excited faces before settling down by his partner in crime. With a fond smile, he wondered just how Malik managed to change him during the course of their friendship; then again, he managed to rub off Malik too, didn’t he? Malik used to be apathetic to everything but now he was always smiling, enjoying everything the world had to offer. It suited him. Malik would always hold a special place in Bakura’s life no matter what happened. If it weren’t for him, Bakura would have never learned to see the good in people and would have continued to see them as fiends. He admitted that without Malik, he wouldn’t have been able to do this; Malik gave him the push he needed to move on to the next level. And so, with one last affectionate look at his partner, Bakura turned to the crowd and gave his announcement without looking back, completely ignorant of how the light faded from his friend’s eyes much like how the world was cast into darkness when Apep finally succeeded in devouring Ra.

“I’m getting married!”

Bakura expected applause and cheers to follow his revelation, not deafening silence. Scrunching his eyebrows up in confusion, he turned to see Malik looking down, unable to maintain eye contact. Frustration crept up Bakura. With ragged breaths, he clenched his fists tightly enough for blue veins to paint his pale hands. Thankfully, Pegasus seemed to notice this and hurriedly clapped his hands, snapping everyone out of their shock.

“Congratulations, Bakura!” he cheered half-heartedly, a tone which Bakura ignored. “I must say, this is a surprise!” He laughed, happy to alleviate the mood in the room a little. “So when is the wedding? Most of all are we invited?”

“Dibs on being the best man!” someone from the back hollered.

“Like hell! Malik’s going to be my best man!” he immediately retorted before growing unsure of his response. With how Malik reacted to his surprise—Bakura cautiously glanced at his friend. Malik seemed to be out of whatever trance he was in earlier and was now staring at him with wide, shocked eyes coupled with a blush visible through his dark skin. “I mean…” Bakura mumbled as he stared at Malik’s stunned form. “…if you want to—” His face grew hot with each word uttered. Brows wrinkled in irritation, Bakura cursed himself for being embarrassed by such a simple thing. Looking away to save what was left of his dignity, he was forced to look back at Malik when chiming laughter reached his ears.

“Stupid fluffy,” Malik snorted while wiping away the tears that formed due to his laughter. Maybe it was because he was already embarrassed but Bakura chose that moment to glare at Malik’s usage of his personal nickname for him, causing laughter to fill the room. “Of course I’ll be your best man. No one else is more qualified for that spot other than me, you know.” He stretched his hand out to Bakura.

With a huff, Bakura helped Malik up and said with their hands still linked together, “I know. That’s why you’re not allowed to leave my side until I’m dead.”

“You sure about that?” Malik raised an eyebrow before continuing, “You already look dead so…”

“Be serious!” Bakura punched his arm and smirked. “Then again, I suppose you’re simply stalling seeing as you can’t do it.”

“Oh please, I can do _so_ much better. I’ll bring you back to life and force _you_ to haunt the living.”

“…don’t be a dick, Malik. You know what Ryou does to the ghosts he captures.”

The two stared at each other’s eyes, neither willing to back down until Malik’s lips started to curl upwards.

“Okay, I admit that was a bit harsh. You’ve already suffered enough from Ryou after all,” he said before snickering at how Bakura’s hair rose up at his statement, just like a cat that had been drenched in water.

The two went on teasing one another, blissfully unaware of how to their co-actors who were still seated and quietly watching them, the pair seemed to be covered in an ethereal glow from the spotlight on stage. And while many thought of the two as some sort of actors portraying a love story, Anzu couldn’t help but feel as if she was witnessing the opening of a tragic play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was posted late because life is hard. I'll try to post this as consistently as possible. So probably expect an update at least once a week- yep. Once a week. Toodles!


	2. Anzu's Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pegasus merely blinked at her, surprised by Anzu’s sudden subtle but demanding tone. He had watched his children grow and mature through the years, and he was pretty sure that Anzu had grown out of her “demanding tone” phase along with Bakura’s thieving tendencies years ago. Huh, surprise, surprise he supposed. He finally managed to get back his composure and laughed. “Well you’re oddly prepared.”

…

**_“I know what you want,” the sea-with said; “it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess.”_ **

_…_

“Now that that’s settled, any suggestions for what we should perform?”

The entire guild decided to eat out for lunch before starting the official meeting to celebrate Bakura’s soon-to-happen wedding. Of course, they all made Pegasus pay for it. The man didn’t mind though, he simply said ‘ _So long as my children are happy then so am I._ ’ The subtle implication that no one could truly pay for the five-star food in front of them was graciously ignored by everyone at the table. Instead, most of them teased him for being sappy; some ignored him in favor of doing something else. Bakura, for example, used this time to seek out Malik to ask just what happened to him earlier when he gave his announcement. Unfortunately, Malik’s attention seemed to be monopolized by Mazaki today seeing as those two couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. Ever since the guild left the theater to eat, the pair has stuck with each other, talking about only god knows what. 

Bakura didn’t mind all that much though, about time his best friend got himself a girlfriend. ‘ _Not that Mazaki is the best candidate for that seeing as she’s still pining for that shorty Mutou.’_ He snorted at the thought before shaking his head and continuing his reverie.Seriously, Bakura had been secretly insecure of Malik’s uncanny ability to attract everyone. Men, women, Malik had fans everywhere for god’s sake. It was annoying how he wouldn’t just take one already and call them his lover. Every single time someone mustered up the courage to confess to him, he politely rejected them, claiming to be waiting for someone. Bullshit. Bakura has been with him ever since highschool and not _once_ did he ever see Malik show any attraction to anyone. At all. He supposed it could be someone back from Egypt but given Malik’s feelings towards his homeland, that was probably wrong too.  Figuring that maybe his friend was merely using that as an excuse for people to leave him alone, he decided to roll along with it. Over and over, Bakura told him that the one he was waiting for wasn’t coming anymore, even if Bakura was starting to have doubts about this person’s existence due to how much Malik vehemently denied his accusations. And yet when all had been said and done, Malik would just smile covertly at him as if he was an idiot. ‘ _I guess I’ll be alone forever then, won’t I Bakura?’_ And he dared to call him the stupid one, ha!

Sighing to himself, Bakura forced himself to focus on the flamboyant man who was once again behind the podium. Yes, they were once again back in the theater, discussing what to do for the last show of the season, and for Bakura, the last performance of his life. His fiancée, simple girl that she was, wished for a quiet, domestic life—a life Bakura could never give her so long as he was part of this industry. While not as dazzling as its counterpart, the theater still earned him his fair share of fans.

Bakura loved his fans. No, really. He loved them a lot, but sometimes, they could sure as hell be scary. One time they sent him a love letter for Valentine’s Day and it was written in their blood. Suffice to say he and Malik barricaded themselves within their dorm room for three days, watching Hitchcock films non-stop in order to forget what happened, until Mazaki came to console them. ‘ _With fans like that…_ ’ He shuddered at the thought of what some of his fans would do to his fiancée should they find out about her identity. Maybe he should have asked Malik how he kept his fans at bay; they were some of the most well-mannered fans he had ever seen. It was amazing.

Sighing once more, Bakura slumped on his seat, still making sure to keep a lookout for Malik. Ever since they came back, his cohort had remained elusive to Bakura.

 _This meeting would have been better with Malik._ He scowled as he glared at Anzu with his arms crossed.

Anzu felt a shiver crawl up her spine as she stood up to say her suggestion. Shrugging it off as the breeze the air conditioner behind her made, she ignored everyone’s stares as she spoke. “I think we should do our personal rendition of the original Little Mermaid.” She then walked up to the stage to hand over Pegasus her notes. “I already figured out the best actors for the main cast along with our story’s outline.”

Pegasus merely blinked at her, surprised by Anzu’s sudden subtle but demanding tone. He had watched his children grow and mature through the years, and he was pretty sure that Anzu had grown out of her “demanding tone” phase along with Bakura’s thieving tendencies years ago. Huh, surprise, surprise he supposed. He finally managed to get back his composure and laughed. “Well you’re oddly prepared.”

“Not really, Malik kinda helped me with it a little.”

He merely hummed and paused when he read the story’s synopsis. “…Isn’t this from the novel you’ve been writing?”

“…Would that be a problem?” she asked with a guilty smile and tinted cheeks, her bravado from before seemingly disappearing into thin air.

He shook his head and patted her head. “Of course not; however, would it really be all right with you? I was under the impression that you were going to publish this.”

Anzu shrugged and grinned at her mentor.

With a shake of his head, Pegasus browsed her notes, nodding to show his understanding.

The silence that followed was filled with anxious energy. Everyone waited with baited breath over Pegasus’ verdict of their new play. Disappointing as it was, most were thinking of Disney’s Little Mermaid when Anzu suggested her idea. What exactly _was_ the original version? Was there a secret version of it? If so, how could they get their hands on it? And the most important question of them all, were they going to sing?

The guild members were all gifted with their own individual talents thereby creating a diversely talented community, a fact that everyone in the room could be proud of. Unfortunately, the ones who were truly gifted with music and the art of singing were only a handful of them. Kind of ironic seeing as how the theater’s first act when it was established was a musical. Save for Bakura, with his melodic tenor, and Malik, with his impressive dual-tone ability (“ _For the last time, it is called countertenor_!” a voice that oddly sounded like Pegasus rang in their ears), the members really couldn’t remember anyone else singing onstage during a performance. Well, the seniors _could_ remember some but they weren’t members anymore so... 

“Hm, this is really well thought out… I like it!” Pegasus exclaimed, “This will be our story for the play.”

Everyone gulped simultaneously.

“…Does it mean we have to start practicing singing soon?”

“What?”

“What?”


	3. Bakura's Role

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, you better believe it buddy. I’m not changing the cast list just because of you,” the guild’s resident friendly brunette said. Who would have thought that Domino High’s beloved princess would associate herself with Bakura? Definitely not him. Then again, that was before they all got roped in into Pegasus’ playhouse. Regardless, here they were now, some form of friendly not-friends co-workers.

…

**_“Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man’s heart.”_ **

…

It was just the first day of rehearsals and Bakura was already pissed.

A day was all Anzu needed to finalize the script and another for Pegasus to proofread it. Soon after, the two conducted auditions for the cast and posted the results on the theater’s bulletin board the very next day. Pegasus made it clear to everyone that Anzu’s word made a huge impact on who would be casted. He said something else about respecting people’s intellectual rights but Bakura stopped listening to him after that. Let’s just say that the results weren’t exactly favorable to him.

Bakura had always stayed away from roles concerning royalty and the rare ones he actually auditioned for, he had been rejected without a second glance. Pegasus always told him that he wasn’t _princely enough_ so excuse him if he was feeling suspicious of suddenly being casted as one. 

“I still can’t believe that I’m the prince,” he grumbled in his seat, a chair left unattended in the stage’s left wing, while watching the stage hands work on their props.

“Well, you better believe it buddy. I’m not changing the cast list just because of you,” the guild’s resident friendly brunette said. Who would have thought that Domino High’s beloved princess would associate herself with Bakura? Definitely not him. Then again, that was before they all got roped in into Pegasus’ playhouse. Regardless, here they were now, some form of friendly not-friends co-workers.

With a snort, he chose to ignore her—damn that bitch for sticking her tongue out to him like a child—in favor of watching Malik immerse himself in practicing his piece on the piano, a melodious tune that oddly resembled his sister’s lullaby. Huh. Guess Peggy asked him to play that tune for some actual sentimentality. Based on what little he knew of the mermaid, her actor must have been able to dance gracefully and play the piano properly because she’d been playing it since she was a toddler or something. Good thing for them Malik could actually play the piano; then again, even if Malik couldn’t play it Bakura was sure they could still find a reason for him to play her. After all, Malik was the best candidate for the mermaid based on looks alone. Too bad for them, they wouldn’t be able to hear Malik sing since the play would start with the prince waking up on the shore after being rescued by the mermaid. Damn shame to be honest, he was one of the few who were looking forward to hearing Malik sing for the play. Oh well, their loss.

Resting his arms on the back of the chair in order to cradle his head as he watched, Bakura slowly forgot that Anzu was right beside him. It was around that time that Malik opened his eyes and stared straight into Bakura’s eyes. He found himself blushing when he realized just how well the lights appeared to make Malik’s hair glow like some sort of halo, making him appear even more angelic. His face grew even hotter when Malik noticed this and snickered at his expense before once again throwing himself to the piano’s magical world. Likewise, Bakura also snapped away from his reverie when Anzu spoke once again.

“I know this will be your last time performing with… _us_. That’s why I figured, we might as well make you the prince. Consider it a goodbye/thank you present.”

Bakura turned to look at her better and was surprised to see some odd melancholy enveloping her features despite the smile on her face. He supposed that it couldn’t be helped. Among all the original members of the guild, only he, Malik, and Anzu were left, Pegasus too if you really wanted to count him. Most of the original crew left as soon as they graduated like that scrooge Kaiba and know-it-all Atem. Some stayed for a while before leaving as well like Malik’s sister, Isis, the guild’s only true soprano. Throughout the years, their unlikely trio had stuck with each other through thick or thin to keep the theater going. With him leaving Anzu and Malik alone like this, there was bound to be some sentimental shit in there or something.

“I believe it is best for you and Malik to enjoy your last moments together,” she said while staring straight at Bakura with a determined face. Call it intuition or whatever it was you people called it, but he felt as if Anzu was threatening him. And so he straightened up from his slouch and said evenly, “Just because I’m retiring doesn’t mean that I’ll be leaving good, old Mariku behind.” He then leaned back as if to warn Anzu to stay away and smirked, “We’ll always be together, you’ll see.”

“If you say so…” Anzu frowned and walked away with a visible less bounce on her steps. She paused slightly and addressed Bakura once more. “By the way, did you know that the original script of the Little Mermaid was actually revered by many as Dickens’ secret love letter to a friend of his?”

Scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion, both from Anzu’s rather odd behavior and out-of-nowhere question, Bakura shook his head. “You know I’m not much of a reader, Anzu.” He smirked before curling his lips up a little. “Now, if you ask Malik that question…” He felt a laugh bubbling in his chest at the thought of his Egyptian friend.

“…You should really read into things more, Bakura.”

What was this crazy chick talking about now? He stood up and crossed his arms with a scowl, his very own signature look, before voicing out his thoughts only to be answered with silence as Mazaki ignored his inquiry and continued to walk out of the room. Choosing to pay no further mind to her antics, Bakura turned to watch Malik once again only to see no one by the lone white piano. With stiff jaws and hands clenched tight in his pockets, Bakura left the theater to rest for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think this is short then you should definitely see the next one haha  
> That said, prepare for another update during this week. After that, actual thiefshipping yey!


	4. Pegasus' Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this was any other occasion, he would have celebrated; this was one of those rare times that he had managed to stun Malik into silence. However, his silent gaping was not helping Bakura’s nerves and he swore if he didn’t say anything soon—

…

**_The prince asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could not speak._ **

…

One would have thought that Pegasus was a kind man, what with his ever smiling face and kind demeanor and all. But you know what they say, don’t judge a book by its cover. With that said, all assumptions about Pegasus were **wrong**. **They were all wrong.** That man was nothing but a sadist! Forcing them to practice non-stop like that, as if they were not living beings but machines—bloody hell! How Bakura managed to survive ten years of working like that was beyond him. But at least the man finally decided to give them a break, not that Bakura was actually going to rest.

No, he was going to hunt down a certain dumb, blond Egyptian.

Ever since that talk with Anzu, the idiot had been avoiding him like the plague. It would have been all right if he was subtle about it but _no_. Every time Bakura entered a room, Malik left, hastily might he add. Whenever he finally succeeded to corner him, his partner always managed to get away. He said it once and he’d say it again: Bakura Touzoku _hated_ the day he taught the boy how to be as slippery as an eel. It was a great skill but an annoying one when used against him. Malik could go and hide and run away as much as he liked, but if there was one thing that would never change, it was the fact that Bakura always got what he wanted. And he wanted Malik’s head. _Well not really his head per se, more like what was going on inside that pretty, little head of his._ With those thoughts in mind, Bakura proceeded to hunt for Malik. 

Heart beating as fast as his mother’s Celtic drums, he looked for any signs of Malik backstage; he checked the loo, the studio, the backstage, heck he even went out of the theater just to check the idiot’s favorite shops but he just couldn’t find him. Only when Pegasus announced that break was almost over did Bakura decide to pause his hunt. Looks like today wouldn’t be the day after all.  A dejected groan escaped him as his entire body slumped over the velvety chair that had hundreds of doppelgangers in the theater.

_Well look who decided to show up_ , Bakura thought with a scowl as he caught sight of his favorite blond passing through the doors with a certain grace only he could do. He smirked in his seat as Malik moved towards him and handed Bakura a cup while taking a seat next to him to enjoy his own drink. Bakura leaned back and stretched his legs with a pleased sigh to fully enjoy the calming aroma of his tea. Holding the cup snuggly in his hands, Bakura closed his eyes and inhaled the heavenly, citrus, cologne-like scent. 

“Figured you needed one,” Malik mumbled more to himself than his companion as he took a sip of his chai tea. Movement caught his eyes causing him to glance down at Bakura who seemed to have managed to curl himself up on the chair. He then gave Bakura a tired look when he raised an eyebrow at him. “Anzu and the others told me,” he said in response, causing Bakura to immediately scowl at him. “Oh please, as if you running around like a mad man isn’t enough cause for worry,” he scoffed before taking another sip of his tea. “It’s as if they think I’m your guardian…”

Bakura tore his eyes away from Malik’s face and turned to look at his tea with a conflicted expression. He shifted on his seat, his tea remaining untouched. “…I was looking for you.”

“Well here I am now,” Malik replied after gulping down the rest of his drink, watching Bakura open his mouth only to close it again repeatedly with his infamous poker-face on. Bakura’s hesitance to say what was on his mind was taking its toll on Malik’s patience, and yet he remained silent. His charisma really must have been something because a simple encouraging look was all it took for Bakura to speak up. That, and the fact that Malik was starting to make a move to leave.

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” he hurriedly whispered. “She wanted both of us to tell you but then things got in the way and then shit happened. Then you started acting weird when I told everyone about it and **_dammit Malik_** _talk to me._ ” Bakura glared at Malik with his face flushing bright red. If this was any other occasion, he would have celebrated; this was one of those rare times that he had managed to stun Malik into silence. However, his silent gaping was not helping Bakura’s nerves and he swore if he didn’t say anything soon—

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Malik trying in vain to stifle his laughter. Watching him filled him with so much ire that his fists clenched tightly on his seat, imagining that it was Malik’s slender neck. Thankfully for both of their sake, Malik managed to compose himself and gave Bakura one of his dazzling smiles. “I know,” he said in an equally hushed tone.

Pleased at the turn of events, Bakura allowed himself to relax and smile back at Malik. “Good.”

With those words said, the two enjoyed the comfortable silence they’d learned to enjoy in each other’s company.

“Ishtar! Touzoku! Just because you’re the leading actors doesn’t mean you get to laze around! **Get back in here!** ”

The two flinched at their adviser’s harsh tone before looking at each other and sharing a laugh. Looks like some things just didn’t change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know- it's short as hell. Why do you think I uploaded it before its scheduled time? Anyways, here have next chapter's Little Mermaid quote: 
> 
> “And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness.”


	5. Malik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dance was gone and the lines were forgotten. Nothing exists anymore other than Malik and himself.
> 
> Alternative summary: Bakura forgets that he's already engaged for a moment there

> Made by [theazureavenger](http://theazureavenger.tumblr.com/). [Thanks a bunch for this!](http://quotable-ishtar.tumblr.com/post/165742456627/the-dance-was-gone-and-the-lines-were-forgotten)

…

**“And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness** ”

**…**

“Okay, remember what I told you, now, from the top!” Anzu said, signaling to the ones in charge of the music to play the song again.

They were currently practicing the part where the mermaid-turned-human was dancing for the court’s entertainment before the prince whisked her away into dancing waltz. So far, Malik kept on repeating his routine due to Pegasus not liking how his dance was “too graceful”.

“You’re in _pain,_ Malik! Real. Actual. **Pain**! “ Pegasus exclaimed. “How could you be graceful when you’re in pain?!”

“Shut the fuck up! I told you, over and over again, the **script** said **graceful like a damn swan!** ” Malik retorted with an obvious twitch of his brow.

“That’s the point! You have to be graceful but you also have to show us that you’re in pain!” their tired director moaned, never really getting used to Malik’s diva tantrums.

“If you’re so great, **you do it then!** ” Malik then threw the script at Pegasus before going off-stage only to come back after being pacified by Mama Anzu.

Not too long after the screaming match between the two, Anzu became their mediator and it was decided that Malik would remain dancing as gracefully as he could but he had to convey to the audience that he was in severe pain through his eyes.  Bakura noticed two new recruits who resented Malik for getting the role flinch at that. Ha! Lousy no-gooders, aspiring for a major role like that only to get scared by a little thing like this. Pathetic. Then again, if Bakura was in Malik’s position, he’d have no idea what to do either. Good thing it was Malik that got cast and not one of those bitches, they would ruin the play and the theater with their pathetic attempts at acting.    

As an exotic melody filled the room, Malik started immersing himself in the music and danced like his life depended on it. He swayed his hips in the way Anzu instructed him to and waved his hands around to the tempo of song. He reminded Bakura of a snake swinging side to side to a snake charmer, deadly yet oddly fascinating. And once he decided to open his eyes, Bakura was struck by the amount of sheer pain the blond expressed.

Damn, Malik really was a great actor.

“Nicely done, Malik!” Anzu, their choreographer/stage manager for the play, said before clapping her hands to catch Bakura’s attention. “After the next two turns, it’s your cue to get onstage, okay?”

He nodded to show he understood before focusing on Malik and remembering his lines. Or at least, that was what he tried to do. Malik’s dancing kept on distracting him, as if he was the snake being hypnotized by the snake charmer. Malik had never really danced on-stage like this before; it was usually the girls who were tasked to dance during their plays while Malik acted like a king on top of his throne. Bakura must say, they should have done this ages ago. Malik was obviously a better dancer than those girls.

“Bakura!”

Right. The practice.

He sauntered smoothly to his partner who paused his dance to stare at him with unrestrained yearning.  Bakura bowed low before him, as if Malik was the one royal in the scene and not him, and offered his hand to the _lovely lady_. With an elegant bow of his own, Malik placed his hand on top of his and allowed Bakura to place a hand on his hips, pulling Malik near to him, before letting himself be whisked away by Bakura into a waltz.

Rebecca, a blue-eyed blonde girl, one of the recent not-so-recent recruits and currently the youngest member in their troupe, leaned in to whisper to Anzu, “Is he supposed to do that?”

“Not really,” Anzu mumbled back, closely watching the two _lovebirds,_ “but who cares? It fits the scene. Let them keep it.”

“…If you say so,” Rebecca conceded with a frown when Bakura’s movements slowly turned from a slow, elegant dance into a fiery, passionate one.

Malik easily matched Bakura’s movement but couldn’t help but be confused at the recent turn of events. Anzu told them that they were supposed to be dancing  waltz and yet how Bakura held him and the way they were dancing right now it was as if… He looked at Bakura to tell him his thoughts when he caught Rebecca holding up a sign mid-spin.

‘It’s okay. Just go with it! – Anzu’

Despite his concerns, Malik decided to trust Anzu’s decision and let Bakura determine their steps. Due to his worries, Malik didn’t notice the change in speed and stumbled a little, only to be caught by Bakura who hastily assisted him. Looking up with a smile to thank his best friend, Malik paused at the intensity of Bakura’s stare.

He couldn’t help it. The way the lights played with Malik’s hair had always been fascinating to Bakura. It always managed to present him in various wonderful ways that made him more alluring. It was amazing how the lights created an illusion that always astounded him. Like right now, the soft lights of the stage made him look heavenly but the soft, caramel skin beneath Bakura’s fingertips reminded him of just how erotic his partner was.

Unable to contain his urges, Bakura pulled Malik closer and closer to him, utterly transfixed with his partner, until they were only a breath away from each other. Malik’s natural scent mixed with his favorite misty cologne danced around Bakura, urging him to breathe in more of the enticing aroma. The dance was gone and the lines were forgotten. Nothing exists anymore other than Malik and himself. He drank in every inch of Malik’s appearance like a man stranded in the desert for years. The way his golden hair perfectly cascaded down his tanned shoulders and framed his beautiful face, his amethyst eyes sparkling with the same craving as he did, and his parted, plump, rosy lips—he couldn’t control himself. Bakura wanted—needed—to take all of it for himself. So he did.

He latched on to Malik’s lips with animalistic passion, devouring his astonished gasp, and enjoyed the way his partner’s hands held on to his shoulders, as if his knees could no longer support his weight, and how his lips parted for him and only him. Their movements were aggressive but soothing to one another, much like their bond with each other, infuriating but comforting all the same.  With every kiss, Bakura found himself getting more and more addicted to it. This kiss wasn’t like the ones he had shared with others before. No, this one was different and he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

Malik’s arms were around him, pulling him closer still as if they were the only ones that could save each other from this cruel world and Bakura took solace in it. He wrapped his arms around Malik’s waist intimately as he kept on kissing him senseless. Bakura buried his hand in Malik’s golden hair and pulled him nearer, tilting his head a little, to deepen the kiss.  His soft lips called out to Bakura like a siren to a sailor trapped in a storm, bringing him peace and unmatched euphoria.

With one last chaste kiss, Bakura slowly leaned his face away from his partner, ignoring the hammering in his chest and the pounding in his ears, and watched as Malik’s eyes fluttered open. The pair remained entangled with one another, as they shared a smile that slowly turned to an outright grin. They stayed like that for a while until Malik’s grin faltered as he gazed down, letting go of Bakura in the process.

Worried for his friend, Bakura raised a hand and cupped Malik’s cheek who, in turn, leaned into it with such an agonized face.  Sighing, Bakura pressed their foreheads together as he held on to Malik’s hands, weaving their fingers together.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job you two!” Anzu’s ecstatic cheers snapped the two of their reverie. A part of Bakura thanked her for saving him from an awkward situation and a part of him cursed her for intervening. Bakura couldn’t tell which side he favored more. He glanced at Malik as he felt him removing his hand from his grasp with an unmoving expression.

“I knew you two could do it!” she continued, earning her a glare.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Mazaki? Are you doubting _my_ skills?” Bakura scowled, partly due to Anzu and partly due to the loss of Malik’s hand.

“Oh, trust me, Bakura. I’m not doubting _your_ skills at all.” Anzu grinned. “And~ I got it all on tape too~!”

Bakura huffed. “Whatever. Are we done?” he asked, checking his things before slinging his bag to his shoulder.

“Huh? Well, no. You still have a bunch of scenes to practice so…” Anzu trailed off as Bakura passed by her and stalked off to the exit. “Hey! I said you still have to practice! Come back here!” With a sigh, Anzu turned to Malik. “I guess you could go too if you want...”

Malik shook his head. “And walk-out like that bastard? No, thank you. Let him have his moment.”

With a hum, she nodded her head and checked her notes. “You know, for a while there, I was actually concerned about you but it seems that you’re fine about it huh.”

“Oh please. We’re professionals, Anzu. That was nothing but a mere act. Stop fantasizing about it.”

Anzu raised her head and gazed long and hard at him before speaking, “Get a comb and fix your hair, Juliet. I can’t take you seriously when you literally just finished making out with Romeo.”

Malik sent her a cold look before power walking out of the room with his bag slung over his shoulder, raking a hand through his hair in a poor attempt of fixing it.

Anzu let out a giggle once she heard the door slam shut.

‘ _Idiots…’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I simultaneously love and hate this chapter tbh. I can't write kissing scenes okay? Okay?! Okay.  
> So next chapter we'll finally meet Bakura's fiancee. Cool.


	6. Bakura’s Bride-to-be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken.”
> 
> Because that's literally what's going to happen here. Somehow.

…

**_“The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken.”_ **

…

The day finally came that the guild could now meet Bakura’s bride-to-be.

She was a spritely young woman named Miho Nosaka. Malik recognized her as someone back in highschool, and if memory served him right, she was the same girl that was infatuated with Bakura’s brother, Ryou. _Seriously Bakura, **her**? Of all people_ —no wonder Bakura deemed it right for him to hide his relationship with her. Malik was going to diss the girl so bad she would have fled for the hills the moment he set his eyes on her. Just look at that hair— _violet?!_ As much as Malik favored violet over the rest of the colors that hair was, without a doubt, even more ridiculous than Bakura’s own hair. But Malik was a nice guy; he’d fix her hair for her, free of charge.

“No Malik, put that thing down before Bakura sees you,” Anzu quietly chided him, subtly lowering his hands that were holding a pair of scissors tightly.

Ticked off at how easily Anzu managed to see through his plans, he handed her the scissors and crossed his arms, his lips slowly forming a thinly-veiled scowl.

“I know you’re still mad at Bakura for keeping it a secret, but Malik,” Anzu sighed and tried to smile a little “At least try? Please? It’s just for one day…”

_Understatement of the century..._ Malik glanced at her through narrowed eyes and sighed as well. Gods, he was so pathetic. “Alright. But you owe me one.” He smirked.

Anzu practically beamed and went on to hug him. “Thanks Mal. I know this is hard for you but—”

“Don’t think much about it. This is nothing compared to what you’ve already done for me. Thanks for that, by the way…”

She just smiled fondly and said, “That’s what friends are for Malik. They help each other out.”

They then left the backstage to meet Bakura and his fiancée.

“There you two are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Bakura waved at the two of them. “This is Miho, my fiancée.”

“Hey.”

“Oh my gosh, hi! You’re so pretty! No wonder Bakura liked you!” Anzu enthusiastically added to his deadpan greeting.

Miho smiled at them and greeted back, “Hello to you too. I’ve heard so much about the two of you, Malik and… Anzu right?”

“Got that right. I hope Bakura was saying good things about both of us?” Anzu giggled and covertly glared at Malik, which he returned tenfold. An exchange the couple noticed.

“Are you alright, Malik? You’re so quiet… Bakura told me that you’re usually so energetic. Are you sick?” Miho asked gently as if approaching a wild animal trapped in a cage, earning her a stiff smile from Malik.

“Don’t mind him, Mi, he’s just tired. Pegasus has been working us all non-stop due to the performance day coming up soon,” Bakura readily supplied with a smile, before giving Malik a concerned glance.

“If you say so Baku…” Miho frowned and touched her stomach. “I would prefer it if you all got some rest but I suppose that’s just the way it goes…”

“Come on, let’s get you a seat alright?” Bakura said while leading her down the stage to sit on one of the theater’s chairs.

“What was that, Malik?” Anzu immediately turned on him as soon as the couple is out of the earshot.

“I tried, okay? I tried. That’s all that matters—I tried. It’s just…” Malik unclenched his fists and looked away, hugging himself. “I’m so tired, Anzu…”

“Malik…”

“Look, if it makes you feel any better I’ll go apologize, okay?” he muttered as he made his way to the couple, leaving a worried Anzu onstage.   

“Hey…” Malik said as he approached the couple and stopped a few spaces before them. “I’m so sorry about earlier. As Bakura said, I’m just tired. So, friends?” he asked, timidly reaching out his hand to her for a handshake with an unsure smile.

Miho perked up and immediately stood up to latch on to his arm, “Of course! Let’s be friends!”

They grinned at each other—albeit shakily on Malik’s part—before he tentatively took his arm back. “So, what’s up with all the secrecy?”

The couple had the decency to blush at the question, a small victory Malik would always remember. “Well, it’s all my idea…” Miho started to explain before going on from one to topic to another until everything Malik heard from her was nothing but a jumbled mess. Good thing he wasn’t really paying attention, he merely nodded at the right intervals and hummed whenever Miho would take a pause from her convoluted tale.

Every now and then, Miho would place her hand on her stomach, a gesture Malik recognized from his sister during her pregnancy with her first child. He then started to notice how she would run out of breath and feel lightheaded every once in a while during their very one-sided conversation. Realization showed on Malik’s face causing Miho to pause and ask if he was all right. He waved it off, saying some excuse about how he just remembered his sister asking him for something this evening, something that the Miho readily ate up before continuing on with her gossip, but the way Malik’s eyes met Bakura’s stated that his best friend was aware of the revelation that just occurred.

Unable to take any more of the woman’s insistent banter, Malik politely excused himself and hastily left the two with a smile. A smile that faltered as soon as he was out of the room and into the theater’s veranda where he immediately took a deep breath, as if he was drowning. This went on until Malik had calmed himself down enough to appreciate the sun’s dying rays enveloping the city. A minute passed before Malik heard frantic footsteps stop behind him. Without looking back, Malik addressed his pursuer. “She’s pregnant.”

“…She is,” Bakura’s voice answered.

“Fuck.”

“Malik…”

“Fuck!”

“Malik, let me explain—”

“Fuck off, Bakura!” Malik raised his hands up to pull at his hair as he paced. “Damn it—first your wedding, now **this?!** ”

“What do you want me to say, Malik? I’m sorry? Fine then. **I’m sorry.** ” Bakura scowled and crossed his arms in agitation.

“Keep your damn sorry! I **don’t** need it,” Malik hissed as he paused his pacing to glare at Bakura. At least he finally stopped tugging his own hair.

“What do you want me to do then? Grovel at your feet like you’re some pharaoh? Kiss the very land you walk on?” he replied, letting his arms fall to his sides with his fists clenched tightly. He glared back at his partner-in-crime when a fist hit his face, causing him to stumble backwards. Before he can even react, Malik was already on his case.

“The point is, Bakura,” Malik said, marching up to his best friend and thrusting his index finger at his chest to emphasize his point, “you didn’t tell me shit. I’m your best friend and you didn’t tell me anything, Kura. You didn’t tell me anything!”

Bakura couldn’t do anything but watch his partner. He admitted this was his fault; if he didn’t keep on keeping secrets from Malik then he wouldn’t have been angry at him like this. He’d be damned first though before confessing that to Malik. He let him blow off some of his steam, because Malik never really ran out of it, and once he deemed his partner calm enough, Bakura ran a hand through his blond, silky hair and held him close. 

As if all fight got knocked out of him, Malik held on to Bakura’s shirt and rested his head on his shoulder. “You’re so cruel, Bakura...”

“I know,” he whispered, as if speaking louder would ruin the peace they both found themselves in.

Malik shook his head and laughed. “You’re an idiot too. A thrice be damned idiot.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m also an asshole. I’m very talented don’t you know.” He smirked, enjoying the peals of laughter flowing out of Malik.

“Oh god, shut up.” Malik let go of his shirt and pushed Bakura away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That too. See Malik, I told you I’m a man of many talents,” Bakura claimed before laughing along. “So?”

“ _So?_ ”  Malik mocked with an impish grin before moving towards the veranda’s fence.

“We’re cool now, right? Because that was definitely your joking face back there,” Bakura said following Malik. “You can ignore me all you want Malik, but you can’t resist this.” He then posed beside him and wiggled his eyebrows.

Malik snorted at his friend’s antics before sighing and turning his attention back to the sunset. “…You should name them Malik.”

Furrowed brows and a tilted head is what answered Malik.

“Your child, idiot.”

“I know that.”

“Of course you did.”

“Why the sudden interest in them though?” Bakura asked with an eyebrow raised. “You seemed pretty mad about it earlier.”

Malik shrugged and leaned back a little. “What can I say; odds are I’ll get roped in into being that child’s godfather. Might as well care for them a little, can’t say I never did anything for them.”

He smirked at that one. “Why Malik though? What makes your name _so_ special? Bakura Jr. sounds so much better.”

Malik blinked and did a double take. “Bakura Jr…? You’re kidding, right? You’re kidding!” He laughed when Bakura simply nodded his head with a smirk. “That has got to be the stupidest name I’ve ever heard. All the more reason to let me name them.”

“Hey! Your name is pretty stupid too, you know! What kind of name even is a _Malik_?” Bakura teased.

“Excuse me,” he scoffed, “I’ll have you know that my name means **king** , asshole. _Way_ better than that ridiculous name you just said.”

“Oh yeah? And what if it’s a girl, huh? Ever think of that, genius?” Bakura grunted with his arms crossed in defense.

“Then add an ‘a’ at the end, idiot, that’ll make it feminine enough.” Malik paused his tirade to purse his lips. “You’ll have a queen for a daughter if you did name her that though, pretty nifty, if I do say so myself. Imagine it: royalty born from a peasant. Classy,” he finished with a pleased smile. 

“Whatever. It’s still a stupid name,” Bakura grumbled before taking note of how dark it was now. “We should go back now; Pegasus will have our heads otherwise.”

“Oh? So you care about him now. What’s next? The moon will fall down on us?”

“Shut up, Princess.”

“Make me, Fluffy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know- Miho doesn't act like this at all. Give me a break- her anime self was much too perky for me so I kinda mixed it up with her manga self. Sorta. Besides, it's been seven or so years now since highschool ended for them? I really think she'll mellow down by now. So yeah, I'm totally justified here haha.
> 
> In other news, I've finally reached the halfway point! Yey!


	7. Miho's Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once, she remembered, her fiancé said that if the eyes were windows to a man’s soul then Malik’s were definitely wide open doors; but now, gazing into Malik’s eyes, Miho couldn’t see anything at all, as if the doors had been slammed shut and a fog had hidden them from sight.

…

**“...but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world.”**

…

Rehearsals continued on without delay with the show’s opening night looming upon them. The stage hands were now running over everything to make sure that nothing will go wrong for the show while the actors were practicing their lines non-stop. Everyone was working hard to make sure that the entire show was perfect; then again, if you were working with Pegasus, this sort of thing sort of became a habit to you. Thus, while it may have looked like a busy month, this was just a usual thing for the guild. Well, maybe not everything as usual.

Ever since Bakura introduced Miho to everyone, she kept on showing up to their rehearsals, doing nothing but smile and cheer and—gods, she was so annoying. Why couldn’t she just take a hint and go away already, couldn’t she see that her presence was not doing anyone any good? Like right now, they couldn’t continue practicing the final act because she kept on mothering Bakura. Ra, the boy grew up fine without a mother. He obviously didn’t need one now.

Throwing his hands up in the air, Malik went backstage to get a drink. He may as well take a rest seeing as they wouldn’t be getting anything done soon. He then allowed himself to sink on the comfy cushions provided by one of the stage hands for the actors to rest. With a sigh, he felt his limbs relax and let go of the tension he was holding in ever since the practice started.

“That bad, huh?” an irritating voice said.

Malik wasn’t even aware that he has closed his eyes. Oh well, he was comfortable now. “Go away, Rebecca,” he grumbled, covering his eyes with his arm.

“Okay, geez. You’re the one who came barging in here while I was reading. Sheesh, talk about bad manners,” she scolded but her tone said otherwise.

He lowered his arm to glare at her, earning him a mischievous smile. “I’m going, I’m going. I wouldn’t want to stay here anyway, not with all the drama soon to happen. Toodles!”

_What drama?_ He thought before catching a glimpse in the mirror’s reflection of Miho approaching him. Unnerved at the thought of someone coming up to him from behind, Malik quickly turned to face her, sitting cross-legged on his cushion, all signs of his earlier relaxation disappearing away. “Hello, Miho. What brings you here?” he greeted, a pleasant tone and a happy grin on his face.

“Hi, would you mind if I sit there?” she said, hesitantly pointing at the cushion beside Malik.

“Not at all! Please have a seat; you’re a guest after all.”

Miho smiled oh so sweetly at him before slowly taking her seat, Malik assisting her. “I hope I’m not intruding…”

“Nonsense,” he said, waving away her worries. “I told you, we’re friends. It’s okay.”

Miho’s smile faltered at his statement, “Really? Because sometimes I feel like you hate me…”

_Ah, so this is what Rebecca meant by the drama..._ He blinked and stared at her for a while before responding, “Don’t ridiculous. I don’t hate you, I’m just tired. Really.” He even smiled a little to appease her.

“Well… I’m still sorry if I did anything wrong,” Miho said holding Malik’s hands tightly while looking him the eye. “I never meant to hurt you, Malik.”

His chest tightened at the gravity of her words. It felt surreal how she was apologizing for something she didn’t even know off. Ironically enough, she said it with such intensity that any thoughts of her faking it were immediately eliminated from his mind. Her words and actions stirred something within Malik that no one but Bakura had ever done before.

“I… I’m not…” he cursed himself before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. Really, Miho. I’m okay. We’re okay,” he whispered so softly that Miho has a hard time hearing it. “…I’m not mad at you,” he added, staring at her with a certain fondness Miho can’t explain.

“But, are you _sure_ you’re okay?” she persisted, her eyes darting all over him. “You look terrible…”

The man in front of her right now was not the great Malik Ishtar her fiancé told her on and on about. Gone were his silky, shiny, golden hair and his brilliant, expressive, heliotrope-colored eyes that Bakura adored so much. This Malik’s hair had lost its glow that it was now constantly tied in a bun, contrary to Bakura’s tales of Malik being so vain about it that he insisted on letting it down despite it getting in his way during practice. His eyes, too, reflected the amount of weariness the man before her was experiencing right now. Once, she remembered, her fiancé said that if the eyes were windows to a man’s soul then Malik’s were definitely wide open doors; but now, gazing into Malik’s eyes, Miho couldn’t see anything at all, as if the doors had been slammed shut and a fog had hidden them from sight.  

“I’m your friend, Malik. Let me help you…” Miho begged.

“Miho…” Malik frowned before patting her on the head. “Come on, I told you I’m fine. And besides”—he smirked, looking a little more like the old  Malik Miho heard so much about—“I’ve been through worse. I can handle this, just trust me. You shouldn’t fret about little things like this; your wedding is coming up soon, isn’t it?”

She immediately perked up at the thought of her wedding day and nodded enthusiastically before remembering her reason for seeking him out. “Actually Malik, about that…” she started before gazing down, uncertain of what she was about to ask for.

“Please don’t tell me you’re cancelling the wedding.”

“What?! No! Never!” Miho vehemently denied before seeing the grin on his face and blushed in embarrassment. “Bakura was right, you _are_ horrible...”

“Sorry babe, but you’re acting like a virgin and I really don’t have much time left for a break,” he smirked, crossing his arms in the process with a very pleased expression.

With a pout, she conjured up all her courage to ask a simple question. “Would you help me with Bakura’s gift?” She then decided to elaborate when she saw Malik’s bemused face. “It’s for the wedding. I have to give him a gift of sorts during the reception and well… I want it to be special,” she finished with a flushed face, far greater than her earlier one.

Malik shrugged in agreement. “Then we’ll go shopping during lunch break tomorrow and—”

“No!”

“Then what do you want to do?” he replied, his tone growing higher by the second. Just because he shared a small moment with her didn’t mean that he would miraculously listen to all her demands like some fairy godmother blessed with saint-like patience. That had never been his greatest virtue and never would.

“I want you to make it.”

“…what?”

“I want you to make it,” Miho repeated, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“I heard you the first time,” he snapped back, not happy at being sassed. “Why?”

“I saw your paintings—”

“You saw my—” Gods, he was so going to kill Bakura for showing her those. “Look, I haven’t painted a single thing ever since. It’ll look terrible; let’s just buy him something else. Bakura’s an idiot, anything will do,” Malik amended but she was adamant in getting what she wanted.

“It **has** to be your painting.”

“But _why_?” he asked, trying in vain to rein in his frustrations at the girl and the topic at hand.

“Because it’s the only thing that will make him happy!” Miho cried before covering her mouth with her hands and looking at his stunned form. “…It’s all he wished for,” she said after much contemplation. “He just wants to see you paint again, Malik…”

Malik raised his hands to cover his face as images of his mother flooded his mind. He remembered how she held his hand and taught him to properly hold the brush, of how she told him stories of her painting an actual person for first time, of how happy she looked when he came home from school carrying an award for winning a painting competition. And as soon as those images came, others followed showing her bloody face and mangled body as she tried desperately to protect him from the madman hunting them, with her voice sounding so angelic as she uttered her last words to him before his siblings found him crying underneath her dead, bullet-ridden body. Try as he might ever since that day, Malik hadn’t been able to pick up a paintbrush without seeing his mother’s blood-soaked face, let alone paint anything. 

Closing his eyes as tightly as he could, Malik struggled with keeping further memories at bay and banishing the ones currently present. He heaved a deep breath to ease his aching heart and lowered his hands a little to look at her. She didn’t look special. She was so small and frail and everything Bakura hated, and yet she was here, asking for his help. And not just his help, she was asking him to get over his fear and paint something for her, the nerve of this woman. But… it was not for her. It was for Bakura, a gift from her to Bakura. Why didn’t she start painting something for him then if she wanted to give him a painting so much? Because, as she said, his painting was the only thing that’ll make Bakura happy.

**_My_ ** _painting… is the only thing that’ll make him happy…_

“…You still better buy something because I’m not promising anything,” Malik said after a long while of uncomfortable silence between them.

Miho perked up when she heard those words that Malik swore if she was a dog, her tail would be wagging back and forth. Ironic seeing as Bakura was often compared to a cat. What a chaotic household this couple would have.

“Of course, you have to tell me now if you have any idea on what I should paint. If you don’t, I’ll just paint whatever comes to mind and that’ll be horrible for all of us,” he continued, hand resting on the jut of his hips as he looked away at the clearly enthusiastic woman.

“Please, help yourself. I have no idea at all… nor do I know what he likes to see in a painting,” she confessed.

“What, the two of you haven’t gone to a museum before?” Malik snorted jokingly.

Miho simply shook her head and smiled sheepishly. “We usually go to the movies…”

“Pearls before swine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda late so- sorry, I guess. My laptop was acting up so I really can't update earlier. Not that anyone cares but- whatever. Anyway~! Here, have some peek on what's going to happen next chapter.
> 
> ...
> 
> Scanning the room for any sign of human life, Anzu caught sight of what resembled Malik’s silken sheets near the window and frowned. Raising her eyes up to the heavens, she decided she might as well clean while her host remained elusive to her. She laid down her bag on his bed and picked up the sheets, shrieking when she saw a dead Malik underneath. 
> 
> ...
> 
> I'll try to update this earlier next time. Maybe. No promises.


	8. Malik’s Best Friend™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She would always treasure the day she befriended the then reclusive Malik Ishtar. The fact that she was the second person he opened up to was something Anzu would always take pride in.

…

**“She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart.”**

…

It had been four days since anyone had seen either hair or hide of Malik.

The last time they had seen him was when he hurriedly left the theater as soon as practice was done. Anzu and the rest of the troupe had tried to contact him countless of times already but it was all fruitless. Malik just couldn’t be found. Bakura, ever helpful guy he was, simply told them to leave him alone.

“I told you, if he doesn’t want to be found, then you won’t find him. Malik’s a little prick like that.” Bakura scowled.

“Goodness, Bakura! Aren’t you even worried? It’s been four days, **four days!** ” a frazzled Anzu exclaimed, tired of Bakura’s nonchalance.

“So what? Malik skips _all the time_. Remember that one time he disappeared for two weeks back in college?” he insisted with a shrug. “Besides, he’s probably just sick. You know how he is during winter.”

Unable to refute his statement, Anzu crossed her arms and quietly glared at her irritating co-worker. If only she could tell him why she was so worried for him… No. She promised not to tell and so she wouldn’t. _But Malik…_

“Fine. Be that way. I’ll just go visit him myself then,” she decided, snatching her bag from the bench she was sitting on.

“Go ahead then. No one’s stopping you, Diva. Just remember when you see him sick in bed, **I told you so** ,” Bakura hissed before turning back to the stage in time to see everyone staring. “Show’s over! Get back to work!” He then glanced back to look at his vexed companion only to see her pass through the room’s door, clearly determined to find Malik and drag him back to the theater if she had to. _Whatever, he’s probably just sick anyway,_ he thought as he glanced down at his phone, recalling his unanswered texts to Malik, before shaking his head and going onstage to practice his monologue for the play.

Meanwhile, Anzu managed to get into Malik’s abode in record time. It was located on top of Domino’s most exclusive high-rise building. She felt a bit under-dressed, wearing only a pink tank top and white pants, in comparison to the building’s occupants who all seemed to be wearing branded clothing and the latest fashion trends. No matter, she wasn’t here for them anyway. Ignoring their prying eyes, she sauntered with her head held up high, like one of the pharaohs she heard from Malik’s stories, past the condominium’s glass doors and made her way to the front desk.

“Good morning, ma’am. May I help you?” Sitting behind the desk was a sophisticated-looking lady wearing a simple black two-piece uniform with gold highlights. Ugh, Anzu really could not get over how chic their uniform was. She should totally ask Malik to get her one of those uniforms… _No, Anzu! Focus!_

“Hi, I’m here to visit Malik Ishtar, would that be alright?” She smiled. Of course it was all right; she’d been here thousands of times already. Then again every single time she was in here, Malik was with her. _Oh well, I’m sure it won’t be a problem._

“I see, are you related to Mr. Ishtar?” the receptionist asked with a smile, typing away on her computer.

“Friend.”

“I see… One moment please.” She then turned to her fellow worker and spoke in a hushed tone.

 Anzu grinned, seeing how flustered the woman was. _Must be a new one,_ she thought before deciding to cut her some slack. “Hey. Hey miss,” she said, trying to catch her attendant’s attention. “Just call him, he won’t mind. Tell him ‘Anzu’s coming up’.”

The receptionist blinked before turning to her coworker, who nodded their approval, and did just that with a grateful smile towards Anzu. Within a few moments, Malik picked up the phone as the receptionist started relaying Anzu’s message to him. Malik was hesitant at first about letting Anzu up but when she started asking the receptionist for the phone he immediately agreed.

With his approval given, the receptionist handed Anzu a gold-colored card. “Please present this to the elevator valet in order to reach Mr. Ishtar’s room.”

“Okay, thanks for the help!” she said before walking towards the elevator, enjoying the beam on the receptionist’s face the whole time. _She’s pretty cute._ Anzu entered the elevator, enjoying the sound of her heels against the establishment’s marble floors. Once inside, she turned her attention to a similarly sophisticated-looking man by the elevator’s control panel.

“What floor, ma’am?” he asked. Seriously, if Anzu wasn’t already saturated with handsome men surrounding her 24/7, she may even have considered him handsome. ‘ _But darling, I’m so sorry. Your looks pale in comparison to Bakura, let alone to Malik._ ’

“To the penthouse please,” she merely said, her classy smile still on her face.

“May I ask for your pass, ma’am?” he said holding a hand out.

Anzu wordlessly handed the gold-colored card the receptionist had given her and watched the valet look over it with great interest as if written within it was the cure to cancer. Remembering how Malik practically owned an entire floor of the building, and the fact that one had to get a card to be allowed entry to it, she figured that maybe Malik didn’t get visitors often. That was just sad. Then again, he practically lived within the theater anyway, so it was okay...?  With a sigh, she turned to look at the city slowly growing smaller below her.

Domino used to be such a dreary city. Always silent, no movement whatsoever, and everyone were all right with it. It was suffocating how everyone was tasked for something and expected to comply with it. And yet, in only a few years, it managed to rise to fame and became one of Japan’s leading cities. She supposed that it was all thanks to Kaiba who built his corporation’s headquarters in it. Not only did it help in giving life to the dying city, it also offered jobs to the many underprivileged families that were loitering the city’s streets. It was amazing how she was able to see her home rise from the ashes like this. Perhaps that was why Malik chose to live here. Maybe, just like her, Malik enjoyed being reminded of new beginnings. 

She smiled wistfully at the thought of her dear friend. She would always treasure the day she befriended the then reclusive Malik Ishtar. The fact that she was the second person he opened up to—Bakura being the first one and earning the title of Malik’s Best Friend/Partner-in-Crime™ —was something Anzu would always take pride in. She might not have been as close to him as Bakura but she was still his friend. And as friends, Anzu would help Malik in any way she could. Malik could claim as much as he wanted that he owed her but she disagreed; Anzu was the one that owed him.

Malik was the one that introduced her to Pegasus, and by extension, to the guild. It was because of him that she managed to achieve the big break she had always dreamed of. Granted, Anzu had always dreamed of being a well-known dancer in the States but working with the guild—she didn’t mind being an actress if it meant that she could keep on working with everyone. And besides, she could still dance there. Once Pegasus found out about her true passion, he assigned her as the official choreographer of the guild and even supported her aspirations by letting her meet some of her idols like Mikhail Baryshnikov and Madhuri Dixit.

After a few more moments, the elevator had come to a full stop and she stepped out of it with visibly more bounce in her steps and took in Malik’s luxurious place. Huge clear windows covered an entire wall, showing the never-ending sky above and the bustling city below. The room was filled with equally luxurious furnishings and ornaments, an aesthetic mix of Japanese innovation and Malik’s heritage. Honestly, Malik’s eye for beauty was something that that would never fail to amaze her. That said she took a moment to admire the lavish room before setting her eyes on the simple, russet door on the room’s second floor. Her eyes narrowed as she climbed up the ivory spiral staircase all the while keeping her eye on the door. “Malik Ishtar! Get out of that room this instant!” Anzu paused in her stomp towards Malik’s room when she heard the resounding click of a lock following her statement. _Oh it is on!_

She searched her bag for a hairpin and prayed to the gods that what she was about to do didn’t get her an instant-ticket to hell. Back in their university days, Bakura agreed to teach her some of his trade secrets in exchange for her help with some girls in his class.  The arrangement didn’t go as well both parties planned but Bakura appreciated the help enough to still teach her some things. She had never applied his teachings before, unless it was an emergency; begrudgingly, Anzu admitted that she had become rather adept at opening doors. Not as good as Bakura mind you, that was why what would only take half a minute to him took her about three.

With a triumphant grin, Anzu slammed open the door to Malik’s room only to frown at the state of it. The pillows were scattered all over the room along with some articles of clothing. Some pieces of furniture were even tumbled over—how he was able to do that, she didn’t know.

Wait, was that a feather? Did he tear his pillows? What in the world happened here? Did Malik stay inside his room the entire time? Did he even eat? One corner of the room contained some take-out containers so that answered that. It looked like he trashed everything but at least he didn’t decided to break his windows and jump off the— **OH MY GOD!!!** Anzu looked at the huge clear windows resembling the ones in the lounge in his room and sighed in relief seeing them intact. Thank God. But seriously, this room was a mess! How could Malik even live in a place like this?! He **hated** disorder.

Scanning the room for any sign of _human_ life, Anzu caught sight of what resembled Malik’s silken sheets near the window and frowned. Raising her eyes up to the heavens, she decided she might as well clean while her host remained elusive to her. She laid down her bag on his bed and picked up the sheets, shrieking when she saw a dead Malik underneath.

_Oh wait. He’s still breathing. He just looks dead..._ “What the hell, Malik!” she screamed, holding the sheets close to her chest while trying in vain to calm her heart.

“Huh. You’re here,” he said unmoving from his spot near the window.

“And you’re moping,” she stated as she folded the sheets and tried to arrange the room a little. Maybe it would help Malik. She heavily doubted it but the room was starting to get on her nerves, so whatever.

“I’m not moping,” he said petulantly with his arms dangling like limp noodles as he sat up.

Anzu paused her cleaning to look at Malik with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, clearly unimpressed. “Said the guy who didn’t go to rehearsals for four days.”

“I was sick...”

She casually motioned to the scattered pillows, strewn clothes, and upturned furniture. She even pointed to the growing pile of take-out containers in the corner before dramatically waving at the entire room.

“…I really was sick… For the first three days…” Malik finished lamely before huffing and climbing in his bed, snatching his blankets and covering himself up like some sort of burrito. “Whatever, I’ll clean it later. Go home already.”

“Excuse me?” she said, unable to contain the ire in her voice.

“I said, go away!”

Anzu pounced on the human burrito and fumed as she tore away his blankets. “Now you listen here you little shit! I have no idea what happened at last practice but you better…” she trailed off as she saw the anguished look on his face. “Malik…? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing…” he grumbled turning away to bury his face on his lone pillow in the bed.

“Did something happen during last practice…? Rebecca said she saw you with Miho…” she said gently as if coaxing a child like a mother would.

He merely shook his head before flinching at Miho’s name, something Anzu took note of.

“Was it Miho? Did she do something to you? Was she being mean?” she continued.

Malik turned to look at her with a glare. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“Well you _are_ acting like one,” she pointed out with a smile. “Now come on, tell me what’s wrong.”

He kept on glaring at her for a minute before letting it fade into a fond stare. Malik shifted so that he was now sitting down on the bed with his back pressed against the simple yet adorned headboard. “She wasn’t being mean… She was actually pretty nice.”

Confusion showed on Anzu’s face but he didn’t want to elaborate more on the topic. “…Was she being too nice?” The weary smile on Malik’s face told her she pretty much hit the nail on the head with that one. “Surely, that wasn’t the only reason?” she pried further. “You’ve met nicer people before and you never walked out on us …”

He rested his head on his knees before replying, “…She asked me to paint her something.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

Malik’s paintings were as beautiful and enigmatic as Malik himself. The only time Anzu saw them was when his father invited the whole guild to their house to celebrate their high school graduation and to thank them for helping him repair his bond with his children, especially with Malik. The paintings were housed within the mansion’s gallery where Mr. Ishtar proudly displayed his son’s earlier works. Too bad Malik hated seeing them.

“How did she even know about those?” she wondered, immediately scolding herself for being stupid. Of course Bakura will tell her.  “…But why _you_?” she continued after a while. “If Bakura told her about them then he must have also told her about why you don’t paint anymore.”

He just shrugged. “Apparently, me painting again is the only thing that’ll make him happy,” he added.

_Ah…_ She understood now why he was wasting his life away in his room. “Tell you what, I know just what to do,” she said reaching up for her bag and taking out a bottle of Chivas Regal. “What do you say, Malik?” She then waved the bottle in front of him.

“Whatever happened to hating alcohol,” he smirked as his eyes focused on the bottle before him.  

“What can I say, after all these years of looking after both of you, I’m starting to see the appeal.” She then took out some glasses from her bag and handed one to Malik before pouring a drink for each of them, ignoring his bewildered look the entire time. “Cheers!”

“…How the fuck—?”

“Don’t ask.”

“But how?!”

“It’s a woman’s secret.” She winked.

“Bullshit! How?”

“Okay fine! Pegasus handed these to me when he saw me walking out this morning, sheesh. Now drink!”

“You know that isn’t what I’m asking about but fine. Cheers!”

“That’s what I’m talking about! Cheers!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is way waaay late- I'm sorry. It has been a hell of a week for me. Thank you for still checking by and waiting for an update. Be sure to stop by again sometime this week- I'm planning on updating this again to make up for the lateness haha. 
> 
> Anyway- an Anzu chapter! Yey! [Mikhail Baryshnikov](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mikhail_Baryshnikov) and [Madhuri Dixit](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madhuri_Dixit) are actual people- they are both considered to be top dancers in the world. I honestly just randomly picked them but after reading their profiles, they kinda fit as Anzu's idols so yeah.


	9. Pegasus' Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only three days to go before the opening day, the theater was bustling with activity.
> 
> Meanwhile, local theater arts director takes a walk down memory lane.

…

**“This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one.”**

…

With only three days to go before the opening day, the theater was bustling with activity.

People were rushing around and the entire stage was in disarray. Paint cans were scattered everywhere, the brushes hanging in places they shouldn’t have been, and the props strewn all over the place. Everyone who was anyone was encouraged to help in any way they could. Except for Pegasus. The man almost fainted at the chaos going on around his beloved stage when he entered that day. Used to the systematized way of working, the poor man was thunderstruck with how chaotic the guild was.

Malik, as the unofficial de-facto leader of the guild, was in charge of keeping everyone in line while Anzu managed the theater backstage. Unfortunately, with their leaders currently absent—Malik still missing while Anzu left earlier for who knows what—the members turned to the oldest member in terms of seniority, Bakura. Same as how Pegasus turned down the idea of Bakura as a royal in their plays, Pegasus rejected the image of Bakura as a leader. The boy, despite all the chances Pegasus has given him, just couldn’t lead people. Boss them around, yes, but lead? Oh no, if one were to count the amount to times Bakura almost got their guild disbanded due to his poor management…

Sighing, Pegasus tilted back on his recliner. The troupe dumped him back in his office after his small dizzy spell back in the theater. When did his children become so rebellious? He gazed at the biggest painting in his office with an affectionate smile. _Oh Cecelia, they grow up so fast._ Humming, he looked around his office and smiled at the pictures decorating his walls.

There was one documenting their first meeting: everyone was so stiff with only a handful smiling at the camera. They were expecting detention with _One-eyed Pegasus_ after all; he could still remember how unnerved they all were when he announced that they were now a troupe. Below it was a formal picture showing his _delinquents_ and their new stage manager, Malik Ishtar. That boy was, without a doubt, the missing piece of their family. The troupe slowly changed from distant acquaintances forced to work together, to close friends who would do anything for each other ever since he arrived. Who would have thought that a band of misfits would be united by a singular goal—to get Malik, their youngest member, to smile more.  

Pegasus closed his eyes and let himself get lost in his memories. Soon enough, he opened his eyes from his light doze and took in the memories inside his office once again. He stretched, enjoying the pop he heard from his bones, and walked around his chair to enjoy the sun’s rays over the city. ‘ _If only you could see them now Cecelia, I’m sure they would have loved you just as much.’_

He snapped out of his reverie when he heard a knock. “Come in.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” the nasally voice of his favorite son said as the door closed.

Pegasus merely waved a hand, remaining at his spot by the window as Malik hovered by the door, running a tanned hand through his hair.

“So, Pegasus…”

“What are you still doing there, Malik? You’re missing a great view, come here.”

With a blink, he slowly stood by his mentor and frowned.

“How are you, Malik?” Pegasus said, smiling sincerely at the boy.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Malik pursed his lips, sitting down on his mentor’s recliner with arms crossed. “I’m fine.”

“Hmm…”

Pegasus was not blind: one-eyed, but not blind. Malik and Bakura had been inseparable ever since they got over their differences and stuck with each other through thick or thin. Not once did he ever see the two fought with each other except for their petty arguments. And the week following Bakura’s declaration was the first time he had seen the two separated in years. Call it a gift of foresight, but the moment Pegasus saw the two together laughing on stage during their first play, he felt an energy between them reminiscent of the one he shared with his lovely wife.

Of course that was not the only thing on Malik’s plate right now.  Mr. Ishtar, his father, had been sick for a few months now with his health showing rapid signs of deterioration. Despite the damaged bond they shared, both parties had tried their best to mend it. It would be a terrible blow for the boy if he was to lose his father now; he had lost him once, he couldn’t lose him again. Pegasus wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t have Malik regressing back to his old self, that hollow version of the boy was dead, never to return again. Pegasus promised this, he wouldn’t fail this time.

“I’m seriously fine though. You guys are over-reacting,” Malik continued, tired of the tense silence surrounding them.

“Be that as it may”—Pegasus folded his arms as he turned to the boy—“you should tell someone first before you disappear off the planet.”

He earned a nod from Malik and silence ensued.

“Clearly, this isn’t why you came here. Tell me, Malik-boy, what’s the reason for your visit?”

“...It’s my father. He wants to come home. To Egypt. My father—he…”

Pegasus patiently waited for the boy to speak. Knowing Malik, he was probably going to say something important and if there was something Pegasus had learned throughout the years working with him, it was that he hated being pressured into things. Let him speak when he was ready and one would be rewarded; that was his motto when it came to Malik.

“Someone needs to take care of him and I—” Malik breathed, standing up to pace back and forth. “I’m the only one left. I need to—”

He watched the boy grow restless by the minute and heard his voice rise higher and higher with every word coming out of his mouth: how his father wished to go back to his homeland, how the doctors wouldn’t allow it unless someone accompanied him, and how no one else but Malik could do it. With his tirade coming to a close, Pegasus watched life get slowly sucked out of his child’s eyes as the reality of the situation finally came down on him. “…You’re leaving.”

Malik shuffled back to his mentor’s side and slouched by the window. “Isis can’t take him—her family lives here. Rishid can’t too since his work requires him to travel often. The doctors said that someone has to watch over him and report back any changes to his health every day.” Hearing no response from Pegasus, Malik started crossing the room to leave. “…That’s all. See ya.”

“Malik,” Pegasus called out to the leaving boy—no, man.

“Yeah?” Malik paused to look back, his hand already on the doorknob.

Pegasus’ words became stuck in his throat as he looked at his child, standing slumped with eyes devoid of life. When did he grow so old? Whatever happened to his little Malik who ran around the room chasing a laughing Bakura? Who was this man in front of him now? Would he see him again? Would he be alright? What did the future hold for him?

Pegasus’ expression softened as he smiled serenely at Malik.

“…Your mother would have been proud of you.”   

Wide, watery eyes greeted Pegasus before Malik’s ecstatic laughter filled the room.

“Yeah. Thanks. Bye Peggy!” He then left the room with a certain spring in his steps.  

Pegasus watched the boy leave with a pleased hum, settling back down on his recliner when he caught sight of a picture on his desk. It was a candid photograph of his eldest children, taken moments right after their very first curtain call. They were all grinning and hugging one another with his beloved sons in the very middle. Malik and Bakura had come a long way but they were finally paving their own way in life. He was proud of them; they both had suffered through things no child their age should have ever experienced and yet his children still continued on. He would miss his boys. The theater would be so quiet without them.   

The soft screeching of the door opening caused Pegasus to look up from the photograph and out of his reminiscing. There, peeking behind the door was Malik, with a flushed face and darting eyes. “I… I think you’re cool too…”

Malik has never seen his mentor so shocked before. With a grin, he straightened up and looked him the eyes, his voice parting with the hesitant tone it held earlier, “Mrs. Cecelia would have been proud of you too.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Eyy, Pegasus chapter for anyone wondering about him. See. Told you guys I'll update again this week *finger guns*  
> We're nearing the end of this story- next chapter will feature the last show of the season.   
> Also, have I told you guys I have tumblr? Well, I do. quotable-ishtar at your service. Talk to me XD


	10. Anzu's Motives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her fingers entwined together as if praying to the gods for guidance, but alas, Anzu could do nothing but wait and hope for the best.

…

**_“…she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart.”_ **

…

The theater was filled to the brim with excited energy. As per every show, the grandiose chandelier hanging overhead the audience illuminated every crook and cranny of the European-styled concert hall **.** While most of the guests were busy chattering with one another, the musicians sitting in the orchestra were occupied with their instruments and their music sheets. The actors were helping one another throw lines and get in character in time for the show as the crew members conducted a last-minute check on all the equipment needed. In hindsight, such a scene really should have stopped being fascinating to Bakura ages ago. And yet, here he was, hidden behind the massive red curtain separating the actors from their viewers, grinning with amused eyes. He would miss this. 

Turning away from the crowd, Bakura returned backstage to retouch his makeup and help his co-actors with their lines. He paused in his steps when he caught sight of his partner-in-crime sitting on one of the couches in the corner, looking forlornly at nothing. Some may have said that Malik was merely getting in character but Bakura knew better.

“Happy birthday,” he called out as he made his way towards him with a smirk.

“Shut up.” Malik grinned, swatting him by the arm.

There was a time that he would have scowled and crossed his arms whenever someone said those words to him, but those days were long gone. This Malik no longer mourned for his mother. No, that wasn't  right. Malik, he—he has accepted it. He finally realized that there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Hell, he was just a kid. There was seriously nothing he could have done to save his mother. Malik had moved on and was finally living his life. Bakura smirked to himself and slung an arm around Malik’s shoulder as they watched their family run around preparing for the show.

In his mind, the images of his current co-actors were replaced by his old troupe. He could see Seto muttering to himself as he computed the guild’s expenses and wondered how they could get it all back three-fold, his inner business guru becoming more prominent by the minute; if he listened close enough, he could also hear Isis’ advice regarding business management. Heh. No wonder those two got married as soon as they were both done with college; they were just too alike. Distinct voices echoed in the distance as Anzu and her entourage entered the room with various fabrics in hand, all the while snickering about _stupid boys_ as Jonouchi and Honda followed them sullenly, both carrying some of the heavier props on their shoulders akin to a prisoner carrying a cross. And of course while these were all happening, there standing in a corner carefully watching everyone, writing away on his notepad, was Malik. With a fond smile, Bakura remembered how his partner-in-crime vehemently stuck to the sidelines until the situation forced his hand to participate. He would never forget how distraught Malik was when Pegasus asked him to be Anzu’s substitute when she sprained her ankle on the day of their first play itself. Many said _break a leg_ as good luck in the theater, but that was just plain ironic. 

Bakura snorted before addressing his companion. “We should go out later. You know, celebrate and all that seeing as you practically ruined that the first time.”

“Gods, you’re never going to let me forget that, aren’t you?”

“Not likely, no.” Bakura grinned as he thought back to the time when they found out about Malik’s birthday. It had been a unanimous decision by everyone that they would plan a surprise birthday party for Malik both to celebrate his birthday and to thank him for everything he had done for the guild. Needless to say, that was a disaster waiting to happen given Malik’s thoughts regarding his birthday at that time.

“Remind me again why I’m friends with you.”

“Because, you’re an emotionally constipated asshole that can’t resist my charms.”

Malik merely scoffed at his declaration and thus silence enveloped the two as the backstage remained buzzing with activity. 

“I can’t believe this is our last day together…”

“No, it’s not. We still have my wedding.”

A sigh escaped Malik, reminding Bakura of just how long he had known the blond. _Heh, can’t believe we’re still alive together._

“With them, you idiot.”

Whatever Bakura was going to answer with was immediately silenced when Pegasus appeared in the room, clapping his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Show’s starting on five! Those part of the opening show better not be in here! I told you that you should have been in the wings ages ago!” Huffing with his arms akimbo, he then left the room to go watch the show from the control room with the tech crew.

“Looks like that’s our cue to get in character,” Bakura said removing his arm around Malik to go find his co-actors for Act One.

“Seems so. Catch you later, your majesty.” Malik responded with a curtsy before heading to the wings to watch the opening show. He settled himself behind the curtains, taking care not to be seen by the audience nor bump into it. It took a while but he was finally enjoying himself when an irritated voice sounded behind him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in backstage right now, _Miss_ Mermaid?”

Malik slowly turned and grinned sheepishly at her. “H-hey, Anzu…”

“Don’t ‘hey Anzu’ me, mister.” Anzu pulled at his ear, not enough to hurt but enough to cause discomfort. “What are you still doing here? You should be preparing now!” she hissed.

“And what about _you_ Miss Maid, why are _you_ here?” Malik scowled as he glared at her maid costume.

“Unlike you, I don’t have any speaking lines. I’ll. Be. Fine,” Anzu said, not letting go of his ear. “Now come on. Let’s get you backstage.”

“But Anzu-—I want to watch,” he whined staring at her with wide teary eyes, trying to gain some sympathy from her bleeding heart.

“B-but Malik…” Anzu sighed, faltering in her attempts like a mother succumbing to their children’s whims. “Fine. But only for a while- you really need to get in character soon or Peggy will have our heads rolling.”

Malik just waved her worries off and tried to enjoy the show but a thought kept nagging on his mind. The opening show for their last act of the season had always been, as tradition, the first play the _graduates_ performed together. Seeing as the only ones leaving the guild this season were him and Bakura, wasn’t it supposed to be their first play together, not their second one, that was being performed right now? He kept his mouth shut for a few moments but the itch to know was unbearable. Before long, Malik was already voicing his opinions to Anzu.

“I guess. But can you blame me—” She grinned at him, as if she knows a secret Malik will never know of “—that was my first script ever. I can’t just let someone else play that.” She paused to look at their young co-actors performing on stage before continuing: “And besides, your performance set a pretty high bar for that play. I don’t think I can ever stand to watch someone else performing that.”

 “Huh.”

“I know.” Anzu laughed.

A smirk wormed its way onto Malik’s face as he crossed his arms. “Well now. Looks like I have a mission to accomplish then.”

“What are you talking about?” She frowned, confusion apparent on her face.

“Let’s just say I have another production to ruin for you, Mazaki,” he said laughing as he walked back into the backstage, leaving a gobsmacked Anzu.

With those words, the noises stilled backstage, a cheap impersonation of the calm before the storm. All actors remained quiet in their personal bubbles as they internalized their character, and even when the performers came back from the opening act, the stillness remained in the room. Soon enough, the silence was broken by the thunderous cacophony of sounds the orchestra has produced, signaling the start of Act One, The Storm. 

Everything else flowed smoothly after that.

The audience _ooh-ed_ and _ahh-ed_ when the main characters appeared. They cheered when Bakura, despite his ragged form, survived the storm. They gasped when Malik appeared onstage wearing his regalia looking as beautiful as the mermaid Anzu had envisioned. And then they all fell in love when the Prince danced with the _mysterious girl from the beach_ and shared a sweet, tender kiss with her. Every twist and turn in the Prince’s life with the girl, the audience eagerly watched and sympathized with. Before long, they were all entranced by their love story and believed that they would have a happy ending together. That was why when the revelation came that the Prince would marry someone else, the audience mourned along with the mermaid.

Already done with her part, Anzu quietly watched the performance along with everyone else with rapt attention. True to his words, Malik gave his best in his performance and the audience zealously took in all his expressions, his actions, his words—everything about him captured their attention unlike any other. Not willing to be outdone, Bakura also performed better than he had these past few days and proved to everyone why he was considered as the cream of the crop of the industry. This went on throughout the entire play, the two both doing their utmost to outshine each other without breaking character, causing even the simplest interaction between the two to be filled with an electrifying energy that possessed everyone around them, turning them mad with adoration and awe. If only they knew how true every single yearning stare, how pure every smile, and how euphoric every touch was.

For the longest time, she had always known about the curious bond between Malik and Bakura. Ever since she first watched them act together, she knew that they were meant to be together. Thus, as a last ditch attempt to let them see what was truly there, she rewrote her old drafts in order for them to act and, hopefully, see how similar their story was to the mermaid and the prince. Subconsciously she might have already known that her endeavor was futile but a nagging feeling insisted for her to do this regardless. She told herself over and over that she just wanted what was best for her friends but perhaps what she truly wanted was to save them both from the heartbreak waiting to happen.  She felt tears welling in her eyes at the thought and brought her hands to hold the necklace around her neck. It was a gift from an old friend of hers, one that she considered for the longest time as _The One_. Her fingers entwined together around the necklace as if praying to the gods for guidance but alas Anzu could do nothing but wait and hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! A semi-on-time update! Next chapter would be Bakura's wedding! A surprise guest will appear! Don't miss it!


	11. Bakura's White Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a nice day to start again. It's a nice day for a _white_ wedding. It's a nice day to start again.
> 
> \- White Wedding, Billy Idol

…

**_“She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam.”_ **

…

It has been a month since Malik was last seen. He was with the guild celebrating his birthday after their final curtain call in their favorite restaurant, paid for by Pegasus of course. After the small party, Malik put on his pretentious fur coat and waved them all goodbye before going on his merry way home. He didn’t even say anything special, just that he was _going home now_ and that they all _better go home soon or else you’ll all be too spent to drive home_. That had been the last time Bakura saw him.

However, unlike Malik’s previous disappearing acts, he actually listened to their mentor’s advice and sent a letter ahead of time. He claimed that something _really important_ happened and that he was _so sorry_ for worrying everyone and he would come back as soon as everything was _settled._ Obviously, Bakura believed him seeing as he still insisted on waiting for Malik to arrive instead of asking someone else to act as his best man for his wedding later that night.

“Are you sure he’s coming?” the timid voice of his brother asked for the hundredth time that day.

Bakura drummed his fingers on his knees as he sat with a scowl on his bed, waiting for the wedding organizers’ signal for him to go. “He’ll come. He’s just late. As always.”

And yet, despite his insistence that he wouldn’t miss his wedding, the thought of Malik not attending at all brought a sour taste to his mouth. With a click of his tongue, Bakura stood up with a stomp, surprising his brother, and paced around the room, twiddling his thumbs together.

“I would hate to be within the same room as you once she undergoes labor,” Ryou said, recognizing his brother’s nervous habit. Receiving no reply, he heaved a sigh and offered, “I wouldn’t mind being your best man if he doesn't come.”

“Piss off, Ryou!” Bakura barked, glaring at him.

How dare he insinuate that Malik would bail on him! His partner-in-crime may have been a terrible bastard but he kept his word. Malik promised him that he would come to his wedding as his best man and so he would. No one else could have that title, only him. Malik had even said so himself. So why isn’t he here yet?!

All of the sudden, a knock was heard from the door. Bakura paused his pacing and listened, seeing no reason to open it as he was not allowed to leave the room anyway.

“Mr. Touzoku? You have a visitor downstairs,” one of the organizers said; “he says he comes from Egypt.”

The twins exchanged a look with each other before the door was ripped off from its hinges, scaring the poor organizer on the other side. 

“See, Ryou! I told you he’d come! I told you!” Bakura gushed as he sprinted downstairs, grinning from ear to ear with his heart pounding fast in his chest.

“I know! I’m so sorry I doubted you!” Ryou laughed as he followed his brother, admitting the fact that they were both acting like children on Christmas day. But who cared, his brother was finally out of his depressive state. 

“Damn straight you’re sorry! Now you owe me all your money,” he joked while skidding along the hallway, stopping by the lounge and addressing their visitor hidden by their father’s Chesterfield chair **.**

“Ha! What took you so long? You better have a great excuse or else…” he faltered as their guest stood up from his seat and turned to him, freezing Bakura on the spot.

“Bakura, wait!” Ryou panted as he finally caught up to his brother, panting and wondering about the sudden silence. Looking up, he understood now why.

Standing before the two wasn’t Malik; instead a man with the most ridiculous hair greeted them. Bakura only knew one person who would insist that black hair with red highlights and gold bangs was a perfectly good hairstyle.

“Atem!” his brother greeted, smiling at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m just visiting,” Atem said before glancing at Bakura beside him, “and maybe become his best man…?” 

With a scoff, Bakura turned away from Atem with his nose held up high and arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah right, as if I’d let you.” He then glared at him. “How the fuck are you even in here? I sure as hell didn’t invite **_you_**.”

Atem merely shrugged and smiled, “Let’s just say a certain _someone_ invited me.”

Bakura’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing down into slits. “Where the fuck is _he_ then? He better have a good excuse for being late.”

“Ah… About that…”

There was something about Atem’s tone that unnerved Bakura. It had been a while since Atem acted alongside them but Bakura remembered exactly why his tone alarmed him; it was the tone he used whenever he acted as the harbinger of bad news in their plays.  

“He asked me to give this to you,” Atem said, handing Bakura a white envelope.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Ryou asked, staring at his brother’s crestfallen face before turning to Atem.

“I’m not really sure to be honest,” he replied as Bakura shakily took the envelope. “Don’t worry though. Malik is still alive.” Atem almost laughed at how Bakura breathed a sigh of relief at that.

“Oh thank goodness, I was so worried for a second there,” Ryou laughed. Noticing that they were all still standing in the lounge, he grinned sheepishly at their guest and let him sat down on the sofa. “So sorry about that; kind of got stuck in the moment there.”

Atem nodded and smiled. “So Ryou, how have you been?”

“Oh! I’ve been fine—not getting married anytime soon like Bakura though…” he said, his platinum wedding band shining from his left ring finger.

It was a secret affair- a wedding reserved only for family and close friends- and yet, what Ryou and Kek felt for each other was not a mystery at all. They first met when Kek decided to visit his cousins in Japan back when their rag-tag troupe was still being formed. It wasn't love at first sight. It was something that took years of quality communication, undying affection, and bittersweet romance from both of them. And looking at Ryou now, Atem would say that it was all worth it.

The two shared a laugh until they caught sight of Bakura sitting by the window, reading the letter silently with furrowed brows.

“I feel bad for him…”

Ryou hummed in agreement. “He was really looking forward to seeing Malik…”

“…They _are_ close.”

“He’s probably closer to Malik more than me.”  

“Ryou…” Atem looked at him and frowned.

“What?” Ryou turned to look at his companion. “It’s true. Those two are practically soulmates with how close they are.”

“While I will not deny that, that is still something you shouldn’t say,” Atem chided.

“Still true though.”

Atem remained silent after that, pondering the situation at hand. Malik didn’t say much when they met in Cairo. He just asked Atem to attend Bakura’s wedding and to help him deliver a package—being Bakura’s best man was not part of their agreement. He just told Atem the day of their supposed departure together that he wouldn’t be able to attend and to give Bakura his letter. Malik didn’t offer him any explanation other than his father needed him. However, given Malik’s track record…  He stared at Bakura and wondered just what exactly Malik wrote.  He wasn’t able to ponder more about this because soon thereafter one of the event organizers came in to escort them to the hotel where the wedding would take place in order for them to prepare. The day passed by quickly after that and before they knew it, Bakura was getting married.

Despite the earlier news, the wedding was absolutely perfect. The stars sparkled brightly above them while the moon stood by as their witness. Everyone congratulated Bakura and gasped as Miho floated down the aisle. The happy couple said their vows with loving smiles as their audience cheered all around them. They were all then led by the organizers into the ballroom where the reception would take place.

After a small speech from a teary-eyed Pegasus, proclaiming how proud he was of Bakura as a student and as a son, which earned him a turkey leg in the head courtesy of the groom, the drinks started pouring in and before anyone noticed it, everybody was socializing and enjoying the party. Bakura saw Anzu chatting up with Atem, probably talking about Yugi, and Ryou exchanging stories with Miho. Heck, even Kaiba was socializing—he seemed to be having an in-depth conversation with Pegasus regarding Duel Monsters, a game they were both currently working on.

With a sigh, Bakura went out to the balcony to catch some air. He may have been the groom and he should have been celebrating but…

“Congratulations, Bakura,” said a calm, soothing voice. He looked behind him and saw a black haired woman wearing the classiest black dress he could ever think of with a pristine white fur coat. “I never thought that you would settle down but I stand corrected,” the woman said as she kept on walking towards him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be inside, taking care of your husband, Isis?” He grinned.

Isis merely scoffed and smiled. “I’m afraid he is currently unavailable. What about you, Bakura? Aren’t you supposed to be attending to your wife?”

He blinked before turning away from her and looking down, “I know.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Bakura glanced at her without turning his head, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “What for?”

A frowning Isis answered, “As his older sister, I should have been responsible for our father. If it weren’t for him…”

“Hey. Don’t sweat it. It’s cool.”

“…So you say.”

Silence enveloped the two. Bakura sneaked a glance to his companion and was peeved to see her serenely looking over the horizon. It was a tactic Isis always used against the people she faced. It never failed to unnerve anyone near her and spill their guts out, and just like clockwork, Bakura cracked. He released a breath he had been holding and groaned.   

 “Alright fine. I’m a bit pissed about it. Happy?”

“Very,” she said, quite pleased of herself.

“God, I hate you.”

“That’s also what you said about my brother, and yet here we are,” Isis quipped, laughing afterwards with Bakura.

He noted how she shivered despite her coat. “It’s getting chilly, let’s go inside.”

“Very well.”

Once inside, people talked to Bakura about the wedding and his plans for the future. The nonsensical banter continued on and on, slowly driving Bakura to a point of no return where his insanity was no more. Thankfully for everyone around him, just as Bakura was about to reach for a wine glass to bash into people’s heads, the emcee announced that it was now time for the bride to give her gift to her groom. He was then quickly ushered into the stage where a dazed Miho waited, like some sort of character reversal from their wedding earlier.

“Hey.”

“Hey…”

“What’s this all about?”

“Oh!” She snapped out of her stupor and picked up a box behind her clumsily, earning her a smirk from her groom—husband. “Um… I know it’s not much, and I’m not even sure if you’ll like it but… I hope…” she faltered as she became distracted by someone behind him. Bakura quickly turned around and saw Atem desperately pointing to a covered up box beside the stage. Once Atem noticed him, he gave him a sheepish grin coupled with a shrug.

“Is that…?” Miho whispered in awe, causing Bakura to glance at her.

“Do you know what that’s about?” he said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Of course! It’s my gift to you, see!” she beamed, clapping her hands in front of her. “Come on, let’s take a look!”

“But I thought…” he said as his eyes trailed to the box Miho left on the table.

“Baku, come on! Open it!”

“Alright already, sheesh.”

Everyone waited with bated breath as Bakura pulled off the white sheet from the box. Bakura heard gasps and squeals of joy the moment whatever it was underneath was revealed; unfortunately for him, as the one to take off the sheet, he was the last one to see it. And was he disappointed that he was the last one to see it.

The box was actually a canvas with the most magnificent painting Bakura had ever seen. It featured him against the night sky with the stars twinkling radiantly around him as the moon watched overheard. His eyes shined with determination while his lips formed a hopeful grin. If one were to ask Bakura, it was as if the him in the painting was excited for a brand new day, an expression that he was pretty sure artists usually reserved for something with the sun peeking out of the horizon. Regardless, Bakura’s eyes gazed over every inch of the painting, committing it to memory and vowing never to forget it.

“Did you do this?” he whispered without looking at his wife, as if turning away from the painting would mean his death.  

“Of course not,” she laughed, “You know I can’t do anything artsy…”

Miho smiled as she stared at her husband. Clearly, she has made the right decision to ask for Malik’s help. Watching her husband become entranced by the painting like this… She glanced back on the box on top of the table and frowned a little.

“Do you like it…?” she asked nervously.

“Like it? I _love_ it!” he grinned, finally turning away from the painting to spin his wife around. “Thank you, Miho.”

“You’re welcome,” she giggled.

“But how?” he said, surprise evident in his voice as he placed her down to inspect the painting again. “I only know one person who can do this and he doesn’t paint anymore—”

Miho grinned coyly at Bakura and rocked on her heels, “Maybe… I was nice enough that he helped me?”

Bakura stared at her with wide eyes and openly gaped, “You didn’t-“ he then turned to Atem who was watching the two of them in amusement “- Atem! Tell me he didn’t!”

“You better appreciate that painting, Bakura,” he laughed before crossing his arms with a smug smirk. “I carried that thing all by myself from Egypt.”

“No… He didn’t…”

“Chin up, Bakura. He’ll hate to see you crying during your wedding day.”

“Shut up…!” Bakura sniveled as he stared at the painting once more, appreciating it even more now. 

_This is goodbye, isn’t it Malik?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White Wedding is a song from the playlist DistractedDream created for this fic. You can listen to it here.
> 
> And Atem appears- yey! A little tidbit about him in this AU:  
> 
>
>> Atem pursued a Masters in Archaeology and was currently working on a project in the Valley of the Kings when he met Malik. He didn't know that Bakura was getting married. Bakura really didn't send him an invitation. And no, Bakura didn't let him become his best man.
> 
>   
> Next chapter would be this story's penultimate chapter! We'll finally get some insight on what's really going on inside Malik's mind. Don't miss it! 


	12. Malik's Paintings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before he knew it, Malik was occupied with getting lost in his memories that every stroke he made unknowingly coated the canvas with a new meaning, and as his wrists flicked to and fro, he brought the brush to life and willed it to dance across the remaining expanse of the canvas.

…

**_The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying._ **

…

Egypt was just as he remembered, still wonderfully vivid and picturesque despite the generally arid land and extreme climate. Some changes happened but they were minute that it was barely noticeable to someone who didn’t know what to look out for. Hence for someone returning after years of living elsewhere, Malik didn’t even know it changed. It felt odd but Malik was happy being back. Was this why his father was resolved to go back?  Too see his homeland again? Or was it to be laid to rest here in his home? Regardless of his father’s reasons, they were here now.

Letting out a huff, Malik placed down the brush he was holding in a cup filled with water before wiping his hands free of paint with a rag. He stared long and hard at the canvas in front of him before scratching his head with a scowl. Ever since he started working on Bakura’s gift, his mind had been bombarded with ideas that demanded to be painted. One could say that perhaps after years of creative stagnation, a dam had broken in Malik’s mind and started flooding him with inspiration day and night. Now if only he could paint them all in one fell swoop and get some peace of mind already.

Malik groaned as he picked up the brush only to place it back in the cup. He had been having some problems with his project lately; it seemed as if the painting itself just didn’t want to get painted. With a click of his tongue, he paced the room and decided that maybe a break right now wouldn’t be too bad. With weary eyes, Malik felt his arms grow lax as he slouched on the sofa adjacent to the canvas. He hadn’t been getting as much sleep as he liked these past few days and even with his father with him, the painting in front of him had been his only companion for those cold, lonely nights. It was his latest project and was somehow connected to his present for the happy couple back in Japan.

With a tired smile, Malik looked at it and compared it to its predecessor. The two paintings featured a person or a muse as he likes to call them, and if one were to place the two abreast, the first thing the viewer would notice would be how the two paintings seem to mirror each other. In the first painting, Bakura faced eastward while the moon glowed down on him from the right. Meanwhile, the second painting depicted a person’s outline facing westward as the sun shined overhead on the left. Another difference between the two that people would easily recognize was the color used for each. Unlike Bakura’s painting, which was predominantly black and white with hues of blue, his current painting used warm, earthy colors such as shades of yellow, brown, and lilac.

And yet, if asked to pick just one, without a doubt Malik would choose Bakura’s portrait. It wasn’t as if the second painting was ugly per se, it was just that, in comparison to Bakura’s painting, it lacked a heart. It felt as dead as the cracked patch of land their garden back in Domino was before his brother tended to it. It had been a week since he started working on it and regardless of whatever Malik did to fix it, the painting still remained lifeless.

A yawn was heard echoing within the somewhat empty room as Malik lay supine on the sofa. Within minutes, Malik Ishtar was dead to the world.

Or at least, he tried to be.

He glanced back at the canvas and growled. His fingers itched to make it perfect but with no idea how to, Malik settled with pressing a throw pillow to his face and screaming away his frustration. Before long his throat felt parched and his voice sounded hoarse. So what if it was a bad idea, it helped him to deal with it.

“ _Habibi_ …?” his father’s raspy voice from years of smoking asked after knocking on the door.

Despite his illness and age taking its toll on his body, Hafiz Ishtar could still be said to be as fit as a fiddle, contrary to what other people were led to believe. While it was true that his doctors advised him to bring a companion back to Egypt should he really press on with his plan to go home, it was not something he was fervently required. That was why when his youngest, Malik, willingly volunteered to go with him, he had some questions running all over his head.

It was not a secret to those close to the Ishtar family of their shared aversion to anything reminding them of their homeland. Who could blame them really; they all knew what happened that night in Cairo. Hafiz not only lost his beloved wife that day but also his children. Thankfully, years of staying in Japan had been therapeutic to everyone involved. His children were all happy and their filial bonds were now stronger than ever. Although, as much as it saddened him to admit it, it was obvious that his children, especially precious little Malik, all wanted to stay as far away from Egypt as possible.

And so, being the devoted father he was, Hafiz was prepared to go back home alone. He knew that his children were all old enough to look after themselves. He trusted them to make the right decisions in life. Thus, come the day of his departure for their homeland, imagine his surprise when his _habibi_ came running after him, carry-on luggage in tow. 

“Malik?” he asked, astonished at seeing his son. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m coming with you,” Malik simply said while staring at him with wide, childlike eyes.

With no more words said between them, he nodded his head and allowed his son to stand by his side as they waited in line to get their boarding passes. 

He waited patiently for Malik to explain his reason for suddenly joining him but no such thing was given. Instead, Malik preoccupied himself with staring and appreciating the views his former home had to offer with a pleased grin on his amused face. Who was Hafiz to take that away from him? He had taken enough from his children, let him keep this moment. And so the days passed with him not bothering to bring up the topic of Malik’s unexpected move back to Egypt. But Hafiz had never been a very patient man, a trait he unfortunately shared with his son; whether by hook or by crook, he would get his answers.

Hafiz entered the room and looked around, stopping at the foot of the sofa to quietly watch his son. Seconds passed before Malik slowly lowered the throw pillow from his face and stared at his father upside-down from his lethargic perch, oddly reminiscent of how he was whenever he felt bored when he was younger. Still waiting for his son to verbally acknowledge him, he glanced at Malik’s recent project and walked towards it, an eyebrow raised.

“How come it doesn’t have a face?” _Or a body for that matter?_

A sigh was heard behind him before his son quietly answered, “I don’t know.”

Hafiz squinted at Malik before turning to face him. “You don’t know?”

His poor child just shrugged.

After receiving such a despondent reply, Hafiz prayed in his mind for his wife’s patience and guidance. Another look at Malik’s painting raised a memory, of something similar to his son’s latest work. He discreetly gazed at his depressed-looking son and the painting beside him before making the connection between the two paintings. _Could it be? The reason for Malik’s sudden escape to Egypt…?_ Figuring that nothing would get answered if both of them just insisted on dancing around the line, he decided to state what was on his mind.

“…You’ll look great.” Hafiz looked away from his son’s perplexed face and coughed. “On the painting.”

Alright, that was not what he intended to say but it seemed that being socially awkward ran in the family. Regardless, what was done was done and he would just have to bear the consequences of his words, but at least it seemed to snap his _habibi_ out of his reverie. _Thank Ra for that._

Malik continued to gawk at his father and proceeded to sit up from the sofa, feeling as if his father was trying to say something important. He shook his head clearly confused before noticing how intently his father seems to fiddle with his abandoned brushes, a habit he often did himself. “Father…? Are you alright?”

“Are _you_?”

He was taken aback with his father’s intense stare and it took him a while to answer. “I… feel fine…? Ra, I don’t know…”

An answer. Great. That was great. Maybe now he would find out just what was wrong with Malik. Hafiz gently sat down beside his son. “Why did you come here, Malik?”

“To accompany you,” Malik answered without missing a beat. He would have believed him if it weren’t for his son sinking deeper into the sofa, slowly turning away from him. _Alright. A different approach then._ He coughed, clearing his throat, before addressing his son again.

“So… your final show, how did it go?”

Hafiz felt a wrongly placed sense of pride when his son smiled and turned towards him, eager to tell his father the story.

“It was amazing. Everyone really did their best. You should have been there. Oh!” Malik suddenly perked up and sat criss-cross facing his father. “You would not believe what happened during the show!”

Everything was a blur right after his son said those words. Hafiz tried to listen to him, he really did, but with how fast and excited Malik was speaking about his tale, the poor father was swept away with his son’s happiness. He settled with letting a rare smile adorn his wrinkly face as he watched him subconsciously lean forward, focused on telling his father his experiences with large, bright eyes and wide, toothy grin. Hafiz closed his eyes and happily listened to his son’s voice, thanking the gods above for allowing him to have this moment before he died.

All too soon, Malik’s voice lost its excitement and was replaced by a tone Hafiz prayed to the gods to never hear again. “So I guess after watching them go at it for a while I just—wanted to leave…” he said pertaining to how much time Bakura spent with his fiancée during their final dinner together.  

“But he‘s your friend,” Hafiz said, staring at his son with creased brows as he let him work out the unsaid question.

“I know but—” Malik pursed his lips as he felt his arms grow limp at his sides. “…I’m happy for him. I really am. I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”  

And there it was again, that same tone Malik had back when he was younger. Back when he still blamed himself for his mother’s death. Hafiz told himself over and over that he would do anything he could to prevent his son getting hurt again yet here they were, his son suffering and he couldn’t even help him.

“I’m sorry.”

“…what?”

“I… I’ve forced you again, haven’t I? I always seem to do that…”  

“Father, what are you talking about?”

“Everything, Malik,” his father sighed as he buried his face in his hands. “I forced you to come with us to Japan. Told you over and over to quit your club. And now—” his father raised his face to look at him, eyes glassy with an unknown emotion to Malik. “-I’ve taken you away from your friends.”

Taking his son’s silence as a _yes,_ Hafiz laughed dully, feeling his chest constrict with pain as he looked away. “I really am a terrible father, aren’t I?”

Malik blinked slowly, unable to believe his ears. “Father, I didn’t mean…” he said trailing off. He didn’t mean what exactly? That he didn’t mean to shout it out loud in front of everyone when he was younger? That he really thought that he was a terrible father? Well that couldn’t be right. If he really didn’t think that, then why would he say that? Oh, right. Because he was hurt and he wanted to hurt him back. And now his father was experiencing the same thing he went through when his mother died. _I’m so stupid._

“Father, I—”Malik looked away and sighed.  “…You’re not a terrible father. You did some bad things but—you were doing your best and… You’ve changed your ways so…” He cautiously glanced at his father, only to be shocked by what he saw. His father hunched over, desperately blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. Malik openly stared at his father’s mournful face as he became filled with detached fascination, as if he was watching a show from his childhood where the protagonist bawled his eyes out after all his companions had died.  

It felt weird.

For the longest time, Malik had always considered his father the strongest person he knew. Never faltering in his steps and never crumbling upon himself. Seeing his father cry was… odd. He pressed his lips together, fiddling with his earring, a memento from his mother, and looked away. A strange compulsion to comfort his father ran through his veins but, how? Malik could easily sympathize on stage but real life was different. For starters, that was his father. Secondly… That was his father! What more reason did he need to _not_ do it? Fortunately for him, ignoring his father’s sudden breakdown seemed to be the right course of action.

“…You know Malik.” His father’s gentle tone betrayed nothing of his earlier outburst but a discreet side-glance told Malik that what happened earlier wasn’t a product of his imagination. “When your mother died, my whole world crashed. It was as if I’d been robbed of the most important thing in the world… I felt that nothing was worth anything to me anymore…” He then turned to look at him before continuing his thought “…like _you_ didn’t matter anymore.”  

Malik felt a stab at his chest at those words. He was honestly surprised that he still felt betrayed at that; shouldn’t he have already been numb to it? He had grown up knowing how much his father resented him for living at the cost of his mother’s life, why was he still surprised? They may have reconciled before but apparently those words meant nothing—his father still hated him. He should have known.

Before Malik could sink deeper into his self-made quicksand of angst, Hafiz’ next words snapped him out of it. “After some time, I figured that’s unfair to you…  I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. It wasn’t your fault that your mother died. You were just a child…” he said softly as he gazed at his hands, relieving the times when everything was as it should be. “You’re our precious little Malik… I should be happy that I still have you but—” Hafiz squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the hateful words from coming out. He shook his head as if doing so would erase the words and their sentiments from his mind before whispering, more to himself than his son, “By the time I realized this, it was too late. I’d already lost you.”

Before both of them knew it, Hafiz began laughing quietly to himself. It sounded so pathetic to Malik’s ears. It was the sort of sound he heard whenever Pegasus was at his wits end with their little crew. He heard Bakura let it out once as well, when they had both gotten drunk enough to tell each other their tragic backstories. All in all, it was a sound Malik detested to hear from anyone, let alone his father. Without thinking about what he was doing, Malik buried his head into his father’s chest as his arms wrapped around him. He felt his father stiffen at his action but soon enough, he felt warm arms envelope him as well. They stayed like that for a while, saying nothing and letting their loving embrace say it all.

“ _Habibi…”_ Malik felt his father’s words bubbling in his chest before he even said it and listened quietly. “Your mother would hate to see you like this. Ra only knows how disappointed she was at what I did, but seeing you like this—it would destroy her _habibi_.” He didn’t grace his father any response other than curling upon himself and letting his father pull him closer to his chest. “You shouldn’t let anyone stop you from living like this… I’m not asking you to forget him, Malik. All I’m asking for is that you continue to live, even without him…”

Malik froze at those words. “What…? What are you talking about?” he mumbled oh so softly that his father had to strain his ears to hear it.

“I’m not blind, _habibi.”_ He heard his father sigh before continuing. “I have seen the way you act around him… He made you happy, didn’t he?”    

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Malik hastily said as he stood up, his father’s arms falling away from him helplessly as dread flowed through his veins. The situation was getting out of hand and with no one coming to his rescue, he resorted to what he did best: denial. “You must be tired- seeing things and all that. It’s alright. It comes with growing old, I suppose. How about I get you some tea, Father? That’ll ease you up.” He then quickly walked away to the kitchen to make the tea, happy for the small reprieve it gave him. Quietly thanking the gods for letting his father accept his excuse, Malik took his time in preparing their drink, lost in his own thoughts.

The kettle’s loud whistle slowly registered into Malik’s ears. With a blink, he pushed off the wall and poured a cup of tea for him and his father. Surely, his father would have forgotten about their earlier conversation by now. Pleased and oddly comforted by the thought, he placed the ornate cups on a tray and made his way back. The gentle tapping on the floor as he walked didn’t seem enough to alert his father of his incoming presence, for once he reached his destination he saw his father gazing intently at his unfinished painting. Frowning, Malik placed the tray on the table nearby and handed his father his tea.

“Is something troubling you, Father?”

 His father didn’t seem to hear him as he merely stared at his cup, blowing at it every once in a while before taking a sip. Malik merely shrugged and took his own cup, sitting beside his father once more. It was a loaded silence; the sort one feels whenever someone points a gun to their heads. It was uncomfortable and nerve-wracking but something Malik was willing to soldier on if it meant his father had forgotten their earlier topic. He took a sip of his tea, making sure to drink as little as possible without raising suspicion. But no matter how little amount he drunk, eventually the cups would run dry and the excuse for silence along with it.

The cup tinkled as it hit the tray and Malik cursed himself for going back. Fortunately, it was his father who finished his drink first, giving Malik his own cup to escape to should further questions persist.

“Malik,” his father said, pointedly ignoring how he unconsciously flinched at the tone, and continued on without waiting for his response. “You know I heavily care for you, right? Even if I don’t say it always…?”

He wanted to say yes. He really did, but the cat seemed to have gotten his tongue opting him to slowly nod his head with a lopsided smile. Ra, was this awkward or what?

Appeased by his rather lackluster answer, his father shook his head and stared him right in the eye. “Well I do. No matter what happens, I love you son and nothing will ever change that.”

Before Malik could even utter the words back, his father stood up and left the room without another word, leaving Malik on his own in the slowly darkening room. He stared at the door, willing his father to come back and explain himself.  Dismayed, he looked down at the cup he held in his lap. He gazed at his murky reflection and noted how weary he looked. No wonder his father decided to talk to him—look at those bags. Yikes. And his hair! Ra above and Osiris below, if his reflection on the tea was this ugly, then looking at a mirror would be would a thing of his nightmares. Sighing, Malik stood up to place his cup on the tray and carry it back to the kitchen when he paused in his steps, casually glancing to the canvas beside him.

His unfinished painting screamed at him as he tried to look away at the shadow featured at its center. Moments passed before the stalemate between the two was broken by one of Malik’s grunts. Slowly, as if prolonging the inevitable, he laid the tray back down on the table and picked up his brush, hesitating as he placed it above his palette **.** He sighed as looked down and thought long and hard about what he was about to do.

_“No matter what happens…”_

_“…nothing will ever change.”_

_“…I love you son…”_

A smile wormed its way to his face as he wistfully noted the sun disappearing down the horizon. Thus, with a shake of his head and his mind made up, he dabbed his brush on the paint and let his feelings guide his strokes across the canvas.

Malik thought of the memories he had made in Japan. He remembered how numb he was to everything around him until he met Bakura, a being of pure white who embodied Malik’s numbness. It was funny how much impact he had over Malik’s life. He idly recalled how in every single important moment in his life, Bakura never failed to show up, like that time with his father, and that first time he laughed ever since his mother died. Before he knew it, Malik was occupied with getting lost in his memories that every stroke he made unknowingly coated the canvas with a new meaning, and as his wrists flicked to and fro, he brought the brush to life and willed it to dance across the remaining expanse of the canvas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you react, here are some things you ought to know about this AU regarding the Ishtar family, especially Papa Ishtar.  
> 
>
>> Hafiz Ishtar was a mean person. He was a stoic man who pursued a degree in Law, and met Mama Ishtar (let's call her Nathifa for now) during one of his court trials. Before he knew it, he was married to the Best Woman in Egypt Ever™ and was now the adoptive father of the orphan Rishid (Nathifa's nephew). Things were going great, Hafiz was now a changed man- long gone were the days where he does nothing but be an absolute prick to people. He now has a loving wife who helped him become more sympathetic to people and three adorable children who love him more than anything in this world. 
>> 
>> Life was perfect until that dreadful day happened- Nathifa was found dead inside one of the theater's restrooms with a catatonic Malik underneath her. No one, except Malik, knew what happened that day. But everyone knew how hard it affected the Ishtar patriarch. He has regressed to how he was before he met his wife. He tolerated his children but even a blind man could see the rift between them. 
>> 
>> It took years, but Hafiz Ishtar was now seeing the wrongs he has done. He was determined to change it, not only for his family but also in memory of his deceased wife.  
> 
> 
>   
> So, I suppose you could say that Papa Ishtar loved his wife so much that he would ruin everything for her if she asked. I dunno- I'm cool with the fandom portraying him as an asshole (which he is! Don't get me wrong on that one) but I kinda wanna see more of the _what if_ side of things. Tbh, this entire AU-despite being made out of spite- was actually more of an experiment. I kind of wanted to see how different characters would react to the same things and how _nature and nurture_ affects them. I don't know. I just really want to see how they'll react to everything I'm throwing at them I guess. XD
> 
> So, that's it then. This is getting kind of long so I'll be cutting it short now. Next chapter would contain this story's conclusion. Don't miss it!


	13. A Prayer to the Sun, Moon, and Stars Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“...tell me that story again- of how the Sun loved the Moon so much he died every night to let her breathe.”_

…

**_“The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun, and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears._ **

...

When he came to, the room was filled with the gentle sounds of the morning. Blinking blearily, Malik brought up a hand to his face to wipe the sleepiness away. A yawn escaped him as he sat up, drowsily noting the blanket covering him before glancing out the window, the curtains fluttering as a breeze passed by, earning a smile from the groggy boy. Feeling the stiffness of his joints from sleeping on the sofa, Malik stretched his limbs and stood up, walking out of the room and following the fragrant smell downstairs.

“Morning,” Malik grumbled as he entered the dining area. He received a nod from his father who was busy reading the newspaper while drinking a fresh cup of coffee.  “Didn’t your doctors tell you to quit drinking coffee?”

Hafiz Ishtar turned to his son, lowering the newspaper slightly and stared. Without missing a beat, he reached for his mug and drank his coffee, keeping his eyes trained on his son all the while before lowering it down, once more turning his attention to his newspaper.

“…It's your funeral.” Malik walked towards the kitchen to serve himself his own cup of coffee before joining his father on the dining area, blowing on his cup before drinking, slowly savoring the coffee’s rich taste. Soon enough a groan came out of his lips, forcing him to put down his mug in order to crack his neck, hoping to alleviate some of the pain.

“That’s what you get for sleeping on the sofa.”

 _I don’t even remember falling asleep on the sofa!_ Malik wanted to say but it was too early for that. Thus, he settled with a glare and that seemed to get his message across. His father just shrugged at him and continued to read his newspaper.

“…What are you going to call it?”

Was his father seriously trying to make small talk?

“Dunno.”

“Did you at least finish it?”

Holy Ra, he was! And he was not even letting him enjoy his Ra be damned coffee first!

“Think so.”

“That’s good.”

Oh, it was. Especially since he was now able to drink his coffee in peace, but alas, fate never really seemed to favor Malik all that much.

“How do you feel now?” his father said once more, causing Malik to release a long-suffering sigh, accepting that he wouldn’t be able to relish in his drink unless he properly conversed with his father.

“Fine,” he said before speaking up again. “As if Ra’s purifying light came upon me and burned away the remains of my poor pathetic soul.”  Malik took a long drink out of his mug, pointedly looking out of the window and away from his father’s steely gaze.

“You could have just said that you’re feeling cathartic.”

He just shrugged at his father before furrowing his brows. “That’s an unusual thing to say…”

“Your sister seemed to have grown fond of the word,” Hafiz said, answering his son’s unspoken question. “She kept on using it while telling me about her target practice yesterday.” His father then frowned, wrinkles becoming more prominent on his face. He appeared as if he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders when really, it was just the thought of his sister feeling alive with a gun on her hands. Now that he thought about it- that _was_ a worrying thought.

“Hurry up with that, you’re coming with me today,” his father said, standing up to walk over to the sink and leaving his mug there for Malik to take care of.

Malik felt his lips twitch into a smile as he finished his drink and walked over to wash the dishes. It was funny how his father acted as if nothing out of the ordinary happened yesterday. With a sigh, Malik reflected on what happened last night and laughed. His father might act nonchalant about it, and he might as well later, but they both couldn’t deny that a step in the right direction was made yesterday. Their conversation was an uncomfortable experience but at the same time something both of them obviously needed. And perhaps for the first time in his life, Malik Ishtar allowed himself to succumb to his emotions and let it all out, just like how he permitted his brush to dance around the canvas.

_“You’re such a liar, Mariku…”_

With his preparations done for his little errand with his father, Malik allowed the resounding _tap tap tapping_ of his steps against the hardwood floors to lead his way. The thoughts of days long gone echoed in his mind as he aimlessly walked through the mansion’s corridors. And without noticing it, he found himself facing a familiar painting.

The brush strokes immaculate, the color palette perfect, and yet that wasn't why it caught his eyes. In the painting, his mirror image’s bittersweet smile directed towards the blue lotus was mesmerizing, but that wasn’t it either. It was the way the sun looked down on him—frowning at him, pitying him, as if it understood the torment his pictured self was experiencing.

It was frankly annoying.

Why did he even paint that blasted thing up there? If anything, he should have painted the moon, the guardian of unrequited lovers and people who've lost their ways, not the blasted sun who constantly looks down on everyone. And yet...

It was ironic really.

Despite knowing all these, he still painted the two of them as such, Malik with the ever-burning sun and Bakura with the eternally glowing moon. It was as if he was trying to reverse the age old story of the two: the sun constantly wallowing in his loneliness while the moon forever longing for him in the distance.

If anything, Bakura should have been the sun.

Bakura who constantly charged head first into things, doing whatever he wanted with no thought of the consequences. Bakura who had no regard for how he affected the people around him, saying the first thing that came up to his mind every time. Bakura who insisted on putting his nose in places he shouldn’t have, beckoning trouble to the people close to him. Bakura who, despite all that, still managed to attract fretful Malik Ishtar to gaze at his brilliance, as if he was a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.

So why?

Could it be, that the reason he did that was, deep in his heart, he was hoping that Bakura called for him too? That Bakura was a moon longing for Malik's gaze? That Bakura wished to be with him too? Was that it? If he told him these things, could they be...?

No. Probably not.

Countless times Malik tried. And just the same, every single time without fail—Bakura rejected him. Whether he be drunk or sober, Bakura always found a way to banish the thought, to disregard the sentiment, to break his heart.

Every. Single. Time.

It didn’t matter whether Bakura was aware or not of what he was doing. It was enough. It just went to show that he was an idiot. That he, Malik Ishtar, his family’s pride and joy and the company's golden boy, was a thrice be damned idiot who yearned for someone that would never be his. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. He truly was pathetic.

 _But at least_ —he paused to gently caress the lotus’ blue petals— _even if it was just in a canvas, I could pretend._ Even if it was just in a painting, he could act that Bakura longed for the night to end just to see the glorious sun. Even if his mind screamed that this was nothing but a cheap impression of what he could have had—in his paintings, he could be the one his love wishes to spend the rest of his life with.

Malik gazed at the painting in front of him and smiled wistfully, eyes gleaming bright with unshed tears.

_At least in this painting…_

Malik could be the sun Bakura would always long for.

…

_“Hey, ‘Kura, tell me that story again.”_

_“What story?”_

_“You know **that** one.”_

_“...No, Mariku. I don’t know what **that** one is.”_

_“...that story about how the Sun loved the Moon so much he died every night to let her breathe?”_

_“That one? Again? I just told you that the other day!”_

_“I can’t help it! I really like…”_

_“...Fine, but this will be the last time, okay?”_

_“Okay!”_

_“...Once, during a time when the world was young, the Sun shone brighter than anything... **”**_

**_…_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! That's the end of the story ( _or is it_?). I was going to upload this earlier this week but my laptop crashed and- bad things happened I suppose. I hope you caught how the quotes in the beginning of each chapter tie everything in haha. And on the note, you should all read the original Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen. Great story. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for waiting patiently for the updates and for reading this story. Be sure to check out the amazing artworks dedicated to this story by Admin T of the YGO Big Bang Committee and by theazureavenger. Also, don't forget to listen to this awesome playlist by DistractedDream. And lastly, a big shout-out to the great beta Lilyleigh who tirelessly proofread this thing. 
> 
> And with this, I hereby announce that my entry for this year's YGO Big Bang officially finished. Thank you all so much again! Be sure to check the other stories in the collection if you haven't already.


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